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THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 


VOL.  IV 


THE    STORY  OF 
MY  LIFE 


BY 


AUGUSTUS   J.   C.  HARE 

AUTHOR  OF    "memorials  OF  A  QUIET  LIFE," 

"the  story  of  two  noble  lives," 

ETC.  ETC. 


VOLUME  IV 


LONDON 

GEORGE  ALLEN,  156,  CHARING  CROSS  ROAD 

1900 

[All  rights  reserved^ 


Y 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  (5?^  Co. 
At  the  Ballantyne  Press 


PREFACE 


With  the  exception  of  the  last  two  chapters, 
these  three  volumes  were  printed  at  the  same 
time  with  the  first  three  volumes  of  ''The 
Story  of  my  Life"  in  1896,  therefore  many 
persons  are  spoken  of  in  them  as  still  living 
who  have  since  passed  away,  and  others,  men- 
tioned as  children,  have  since  grown  up. 

Reviews  will  doubtless,  in  general,  continue 
to  abuse  the  book,  especially  for  its  great  length. 
But  personally,  if  I  am  interested  in  a  story,  I 
like  it  to  be  a  long  one  ;  and  there  is  no  obli- 
gation for  any  who  dislike  a  long  book  to  read 
this  one  :  they  may  look  at  a  page  or  two  here 
and  there,  where  they  seem  promising ;  or, 
better  still,  they  can  leave  it  quite  alone  :  they 
really  need  have  nothing  to  complain  of. 

In  the  later  volumes  I  have  used  letters  for 
my  narrative  even  more  than  in  the  former. 


158212 


VI 


PREFACE 


Many  will  feel  with  Dr.  Newman  that  '*the 
true  life  of  a  man  is  in  his  letters.  .  .  .  Not 
only  for  the  interest  of  a  biography,  but  for 
arriving  at  the  inside  of  things,  the  publication 
of  letters  is  the  true  method.  Biographers 
varnish,  they  assign  motives,  they  conjecture 
feelings,  but  contemporary  letters  are  facts." 


AUGUSTUS  J.  C.  HARE. 


CONTENTS 


IN  MY  SOLITARY  LIFE 

LITERARY  WORK  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD 
LONDON  WALKS  AND  SOCIETY  . 


VOL.  IV. 


9> 


* 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

VOL.  IV 

AUGUSTUS  J.  C.  HARE.    From  a  photograph  by  Hill  and 

Saunders,    [Photogravure)  .....  Frontispiece 

PAGE 

HIGHCLIFFE,  THE  KING'S  ORIEL   9 

FRANCIS  GEORGE  HARE.    [PhotogravMre]  .        .       .      To face  20 

THE  CHURCHYARD  AT  HURSTMONCEAUX   1 5 

GIBRALTAR  FROM  ALGECIRAS.     [Full-pagC  ZVOodcut)  .        To  facc  34 

TOLEDO.    {Full-page  woodcut)     .....  38 

SEGOVIA.   {Full-page  woodcut)                                             ,,  42 

FOUNTAIN  OF  S.  CLOUD   45 

FROM  THE  LIBRARY  WINDOW,  FORD   52 

HATFIELD   75 

FIDENAE   86 

VIEW  FROM  THE  TEMPIETTO,  ROME   9I 

SUBIACO.    {Full-page  woodcut)    .       ....      To  face  96 

ISOLA  FARNESE   96 

PONTE  dell'  ISOLA,  VEII   97 

CASTEL  FUSANO   lOO 

CYCLOPEAN  GATE  OF  ALATRI   IO4 

THE  INN  AT  FERENTINO   I05 

PAPAL  PALACE,  ANAGNI   I06 

TEMPLES  OF  CORI   I07 

NINFA   108 

S.  ORESTE,  FROM  SORACTE   I09 

CONVENT  OF  S.  SILVESTRO,  SUMMIT  OF  SORACTE     .         .  .Ill 

SUTRI   112 

CAPRAROLA   II 3 

PAPAL  PALACE,  VITERRO   II4 

FROM  THE  WALLS  OF  ORVIETO   II5 

PORCH  OF  CREMONA   I20 

PIAZZA  MAGGIORE,  BERGAMO   121 

ix 


X 


LIST    OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

THE  HOSPICE,  HOLMHURST   I30 

LANGLEY  FORD,  IN  THE  CHEVIOTS   1 38 

RABY  CASTLE   I46 

LAMPEDUSA  FROM  TAGGIA   167 

STAIRCASE,  PALAZZO  DELL'  UNIVERSITA,  GENOA       .         .         .  168 

CLOISTER  OF  S.  MATTEO,  GENOA   169 

COLONNA  CASTLE,  PALESTRINA   1 72 

GENAZZANO                                                                                                .  I73 

SUBIACO        .   174 

SACRO  SPECO,  SUBIACO   175 

S.   MARIA  DI  COLLEMAGGIO,  AQUTLA   176 

SOLMONA   177 

HERMITAGE  OF  PIETRO  MURRONE   1 78 

CASTLE  OF  AVEZZANO   1 79 

GATE  OF  ARPINUM   180 

TRIUMPHAL  ARCH,  AQUINO         .         .     •    .         .         .         .         .  181 

PORTO  S.  LORENZO,  AQUINO   1 82 

FARFA   190 

GATE  OF  CASAMARI   I9I 

LA  BADIA  DI  SETTIMO   1 95 

AT  MILAN   197 

PARAY  LE  MONIAI   I98 

THE  GARDEN  TERRACE,  HIGHCLIFFE   2IO 

THE  HAVEN  HOUSE   211 

THE  LIBRARY,   HIGHCLIFFE   214 

THE  FOUNTAIN,   HIGHCLIFFE   2l6 

GATEWAY,  LAMBETH  PALACE   220 

THE  BLOODY  GATE,  TOWER  OF  LONDON   221 

COMPIEGNE   225 

HOLLAND  HOUSE   227 

HOLMHURST,  THE  ROCK  WALK   229 

HOLLAND  HOUSE  (GENERAL  VI KW)   23 1 

HOLLAND  HOUSE,  THE  LILY  GARDEN   234 

COBHAM  HALI   238 


LOUISA,  MARCHIONESS  OF  WATERFORD.  {Li)lC  CJlgravnig)     To  face  256 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS  xi 

PAGE 

THE  SFXRKT  STAIR,   FORD   257 

NORHAM-ON-TWEED   259 

THE  king's  room,   FORD   263 

THE  PINETA,   RAVENNA   302 

IL  SAGRO  DI  S.  MICHELE   313 

CANOSSA   314 

URBINO   315 

GUBBIO   316 

LA  VERNIA   319 

CAMALDOLI   32O 

BOBBIO   321 

FRANCES,  BARONESS  BUNSEN.    {Line  engraving)        .      To  face  322 

LOVERE,  LAGO  d'iSEO   322 

LAMBETH,  INNER  COURT   324 

DORCHESTER  HOUSE   332 

CROSBY  HALL   337 

THE  GARDEN  PORCH,  HIGHCLIFFE   34I 

THE  SUNDIAL  WALK,  HIGHCLIFFE   342 

FOUNTAIN  COURT,  TEMPLE   361 

IN  FRONT  OF  ST.  PAUL's   364 

CHAPEL  AND  GATEWAY,   LINCOLN'S  INN   372 

STAPLE  INN,  HOLBORN   373 

JOHN  BUNYAN'S  tomb,  BUNHILL  FIELDS   377 

traitor's  GATE,  TOWER  OF  LONDON   378 

THE  SAVOY  CHURCHYARD   380 

rahere's  tomb,  ST.  Bartholomew's,  smithfield      .      .  381 

THE  sleeping  SISTERS,  ST.  MARY  OVERY          ....  382 

CHARLTON  HALL   389 

COURTYARD,  FULHAM  PALACE   399 

HOLM  HURST   405 

LOUISA,  MARCHIONESS   OF  WATERFORD.      FrOlU  a  pholOgl'apJl 

by  W.J.  Reed.    {Phoiogravn7'e)    .       ...      To  face  406 

CHURCHYARD  OF  ST.  ANNE,   SOHO   4I3 

LONDON  BRIDGE  FROM  BILLINGSGATE   485 


XVI 


IN   MY  SOLITARY  LIFE 

"  Console  if  you  will,  I  can  bear  it ; 
'Tis  a  well-meant  alms  of  breath  ; 
But  not  all  the  preaching  since  Adam 
Has  made  Death  other  than  Death." — Lowell, 

Whoever  he  is  that  is  overrun  with  solitariness,  or  crucified  with 
worldly  care,  I  can  prescribe  him  no  better  remedy  than  that  of  study, 
to  compose  himself  to  learning." — Burton,  Anatomy  of  Melancholy. 

E  certo  ogni  mio  studio  in  quel  temp'  era 
Pur  di  sfogare  il  doloroso  core 
In  qualche  modo,  non  d'acquistar  fama, 
Pianger  cercai,  non  gia  del  pianto  onore. " 

— Petrarch,  In  Morte  di  Laura,  xxv. 

Why  should  we  faint,  and  fear  to  live  alone, 
Since  all  alone,  so  Heaven  hath  willed,  we  die, 

Nor  even  the  tenderest  heart,  and  next  our  own, 
Knows  half  the  reasons  why  we  smile  or  sigh  ?" 

— Keble. 

"  Let  us  dismiss  vain  sorrows  :  it  is  for  the  living  only  that  we  are 
called  to  live.    Forward  !  forward  !  " — Carlyle. 

I  SPENT  the  greater  part  of  the  fiercely  cold 
winter  of  1870-71  in  complete  seclusion  at 
Holmhurst,  entirely  engrossed  in  the  work  of 
the    Memorials,"  which  had  been  the  last  keen 

VOL.  IV.  A 


2 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1871 


interest  of  my  Mother's  life.  In  calling  up 
the  vivid  image  of  long-ago  days  spent  with 
her,  I  seemed  to  live  those  days  over  again, 
and  I  found  constant  proof  of  her  loving  fore- 
thought for  the  first  months  of  my  solitude 
in  the  materials  which,  without  my  knowledge, 
and  without  then  the  slightest  idea  of  publica- 
tion, she  must  have  frequently  devoted  herself 
to  arranging  during  the  last  few  years  of  her 
life.  As  each  day  passed,  and  the  work  un- 
ravelled itself,  I  was  increasingly  convinced  of 
the  wisdom  of  her  death-bed  decision  that  until 
the  book  was  quite  finished  I  should  give  it  to 
none  of  the  family  to  read.  They  must  judge 
of  it  as  a  whole.  Otherwise,  in  ''attempting 
to  please  all,  I  should  please  none  :  shocking 
nobody's  prejudices  I  should  enlist  nobody's 
sympathies." 

Unfortunately  this  decision  greatly  ruffled 
the  sensibilities  of  my  Stanley  cousins,  espe- 
cially of  Arthur  Stanley  and  his  sister  Mary, 
who  from  the  first  threatened  me  with  legal 
proceedings  if  I  gave  them  the  smallest  loop- 
hole for  them,  by  publishing  a  w^ord  of  their 
own  mother's  writing  without  their  consent, 
which  from  the  first,  also,  they  declared  they 
would  withhold.  They  were  also  ''quite 
certain "  that   no  one  would  ever  read  the 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


3 


''Memorials"  if  they  were  published,  in  which 
I  always  thought  they  might  be  wrong,  as 
people  are  so  apt  to  be  when  they  are  ''quite 
certain." 

My  other  cousins  did  not  at  first  approve  of 
the  plan  of  the  "  Memorials,"  but  when  once 
completely  convinced  that  it  had  been  their 
dear  aunt's  wish,  they  withdrew  all  opposition. 

Still  the  harshness  with  which  I  was  now 
continually  treated  and  spoken  of  by  those 
with  whom  I  had  always  hitherto  lived  on 
terms  of  the  utmost  intimacy  was  a  bitter 
trial.  In  a  time  when  a  single  great  grief 
pervades  every  hour,  unreasonable  demands, 
cruel  words,  and  taunting  sneers  are  more 
difficult  to  bear  than  when  life  is  rippling  on 
in  an  even  course.  I  was  by  no  means  blame- 
less :  I  wrote  sharp  letters :  I  made  harsh 
speeches  ;  but  that  it  was  my  duty  to  fight 
in  behalf  of  the  fulfilment  of  the  solemn  duty 
which  had  devolved  upon  me,  I  never  doubted 
then,  and  I  have  never  doubted  since.  In 
the  fulfilment  of  that  duty  I  was  prepared  to 
sacrifice  every  friend  I  had  in  the  world,  all 
the  little  fortune  I  had,  my  very  life  itself.  I 
felt  that  I  must  learn  henceforth  to  act  with 
*' Selbstandigkeit,"  which  somehow  seems  to 
have  a  stronger  meaning  than  independence  ; 


4 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


and  I  believe  I  had  in  mind  the  maxim  of 
Soeur  Rosab'e — Faites  le  bien,  et  laissez 
dire." 

A  vivid  impression  that  I  had  a  very  short 
time  to  live  made  me  more  eager  about  the 
rapid  fulfilment  of  my  task.  I  thought  of  the 
Spanish  proverb,  By-and-by  is  always  too 
late,"  and  I  often  worked  at  the  book  for  twelve 
hours  a  day.  My  Mother  had  long  thought, 
and  latterly  often  said,  that  it  was  impossible  I 
could  long  survive  her  :  that  when  two  lives 
were  so  closely  entwined  as  ours,  one  could  not 
go  on  alone.  She  had  often  even  spoken  of 
'^when  we  die."  But  God  does  not  allow 
people  to  die  of  grief,  though,  when  sorrow 
has  once  taken  possession  of  one,  only  hard 
work,  laboriously  undertaken,  can — not  drive 
it  out,  but  keep  it  under  control.  It  is  as 
Whittier  says  : — 

There  is  nothing  better  than  work  for  mind  or 
body.  It  makes  the  burden  of  sorrow,  which  all  sooner 
or  later  must  carry,  Hghter.  I  Hke  the  wise  Chinese 
proverb :  ^  You  cannot  prevent  the  birds  of  sadness 
from  flying  over  your  head,  but  you  may  prevent  them 
from  stopping  to  build  their  nests  in  your  hair."^ 

I  had  felt  the  gradual  separation  of  death. 
At  first  the  sense  of  my  Mother  s  presence  was 

1  J.  Greenleaf  Whittier,  Letters." 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


S 


Still  quite  vivid  :  then  it  was  less  so  :  at  last  the 
day  came  when  I  felt  ''she  is  nowhere  here  now." 

It  was  partly  owing  to  the  strong  impres- 
sion in  her  mind  that  I  could  not  survive  her 
that  my  Mother  had  failed  to  make  the  usual 
arrangements  for  my  future  provision.  As  she 
had  never  allowed  any  money  to  be  placed  in 
my  name,  I  had — being  no  legal  relation  to  her 
— to  pay  a  strangers  duty  of  ^lo  per  cent,  on 
all  she  possessed,  and  this  amounted  to  a  large 
sum,  when  extended  to  a  duty  on  every  picture, 
even  every  garden  implement,  &c.^  Not  only 
this,  but  during  her  lifetime  she  had  been 
induced  by  various  members  of  the  family  to 
sign  away  a  large  portion  of  her  fortune,  and 
in  the  intricate  difficulties  which  arose  I  was 
assured  that  I  should  have  nothing  whatever 
left  to  live  upon  beyond  £60  a  year,  and  the 
rent  of  Holmhurst  (fortunately  secured),  if  it 
could  be  let.  I  was  urged  by  the  Stanleys  to 
submit  at  once  to  my  fate,  and  to  sell  Holm- 
hurst ;  yet  I  could  not  help  hoping  for  better 
days,  which  came  with  the  publication  of 
''Walks  in  Rome." 

Meanwhile,  half  distracted  by  the  unsought 
"advice"  which  w^as  poured  upon  me  from  all 

^  I  had  to  pay  a  duty  of  to  per  cent,  even  on  all  my  own  money  and 
savings,  as  it  had  been  unfortunately  invested  in  her  name. 


6 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


sides,  and  worn-out  with  the  genuine  distress 
of  my  old  servants,  I  went  away  in  March,  just 
as  far  as  I  could,  first  to  visit  the  Pole  Carews 
in  Cornwall,  and  then  to  the  Land's  End,  to 
Stephen  Lawley,  who  was  then  living  in  a 
cottage  by  the  roadside  near  Penzance.  I  was 
so  very  miserable  and  so  miserably  preoccu- 
pied at  this  time,  that  I  have  no  distinct  re- 
collection of  these  visits,  beyond  the  image 
on  my  mind  of  the  grand  chrysoprase  seas 
of  Cornwall  and  the  stupendous  rocks  against 
which  they  beat,  especially  at  Tol  Pedn  Pen- 
with.  I  felt  more  in  my  natural  element  when, 
after  I  had  gone  to  Bournemouth  to  visit  Archie 
Colquhoun,^  who  was  mourning  the  recent  loss 
of  both  his  parents,  I  was  detained  there  by  his 
sudden  and  dangerous  illness.  While  there, 
also,  I  was  cheered  by  the  first  thoughts  for  a 
tour  in  Spain  during  the  next  winter. 

To  Mary  Lea  Gidman. 

Penzance y  March  13,  1871. — I  know  how  much  and 
sadly  you  will  have  thought  to-day  of  the  last  terrible 
13th  of  March,  when  we  were  awakened  in  the  night 
by  the  dear  Mother's  paralytic  seizure,  and  saw  her 
so  sadly  changed.  In  all  the  anguish  of  looking  back 
upon  that  time,  and  the  feeling  which  I  constantly 

^  Archibald,  eldest  son  of  John  Archibald  Colqiihoun  of  Killermont, 
N.B.,  and  Chartvvell,  near  Westerham,  in  Kent. 


i87i] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


7 


have  now  of  all  that  is  bright  and  happy  having 
perished  out  of  my  life  with  her  sweet  presence,  I 
have  much  comfort  in  thinking  that  we  were  able  to 
carry  out  her  last  great  wish  in  bringing  her  home, 
and  in  the  memory  of  the  three  happy  months  of 
comparative  health  which  she  afterwards  enjoyed  there. 
Many  people  since  I  left  home  have  read  some  of  the 
'  Memorials '  I  am  writing,  and  express  a  sense  of 
never  having  known  before  how  perfectly  beautiful 
her  character  was,  and  that  in  truth,  like  Abraham, 
they  'entertained  an  angel  unawares/  Now  that 
dear  life,  which  always  seemed  to  us  so  perfect,  has 
indeed  become  perfected,  and  the  heavenly  glow  which 
came  to  the  revered  features  in  death  is  but  a  very 
faint  image  of  the  heavenly  glory  which  always  rests 
upon  them." 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Stewart's  Hotely  Boiirneuiouth^  March  30,  1871. — • 
The  discussion  of  a  tour  in  Spain  comes  to  me  as 
the  pleasant  dream  of  a  possible  future.  ...  It  is  of 
course  easy  for  us  to  see  Spain  in  a  way  in  a  few  weeks, 
but  if  one  does  not  go  in  a  cockney  spirit,  but  really 
wishing  to  leariij  to  open  one's  eyes  to  the  glorious 
past  of  Spain,  the  story  of  Isabella,  the  Moorish 
dominion,  the  boundless  wealth  of  its  legends,  its 
proverbs,  its  poetry — all  that  makes  it  different  from 
any  other  country — we  must  begin  in  a  different  way, 
and  our  chief  interest  will  be  found  in  the  grand  old 
cities  which  the  English  generally  do  not  visit — Leon, 
Zaragoza,  Salamanca ;  in  the  wonderful  romance 
which  clings  around  the  rocks  of  Monserrat  and  the 


8 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


cloisters  of  Santiago  ;  in  the  scenes  of  the  Cid,  Don 
Roderick,  Cervantes,  &c. 

''You  will  be  sorry  to  hear  that  I  am  again  in 
my  normal  condition  of  day  and  night  nurse,  in  all 
the  varying  anxieties  of  a  sick-room.  I  came  here  ten 
days  ago  to  stay  with  Archie  Colquhoun,  whom  I  had 
known  very  little  before,  but  who,  having  lost  both 
father  and  mother  lately,  turned  in  heart  to  me  and 
begged  me  to  come  to  him.  On  Tuesday  he  fell 
with  a  great  crash  on  the  floor  in  a  fit,  and  was 
unconscious  for  many  hours.  ...  It  was  a  narrow 
escape  of  his  life,  and  he  was  in  a  most  critical  state 
till  the  next  day,  but  now  he  is  doing  well,  though 
it  will  long  be  an  anxious  case.^  You  will  easily 
understand  how  much  past  anguish  has  come  back  to 
me  in  the  night-watches  here,  and  I  feel  it  odd  that 
these  duties  should,  as  it  were,  be  perpetually 
for  me.^^ 

In  May  I  paid  the  first  of  many  visits  to 
my  dear  Lady  Waterford  at  Highcliffe,  her 
fairy  palace  by  the  sea,  on  the  Hampshire 
coast,  near  Christ  Church,  and  though  I  v^as 
still  too  sad  to  enter  into  the  full  charm  of 
the  place  and  the  life,  which  I  have  enjoyed 
so  much  since,  I  was  greatly  refreshed  by 
the  mental  tonic,  and  by  the  kindness  and 
sympathy  which  I  have  never  failed  to  re- 
ceive from   Lady  Waterford  and  her  friend 

^  Archie  Colquhoun  died  at  Nice  in  the  following  spring. 


1871] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


9' 


Lady  Jane  Ellice.  With  them,  too,  I  was  able 
to  discuss  my  work  in  all  its  aspects,  and 
greatly  was  I  encouraged  by  all  they  said. 


HIGHCLIFFE,  THE  KING'S  ORIEL.l 


For  many  years  after  this,  Highcliffe  was 
more  familiar  to  me  than  any  other  place 
except  my  own  home,  and  I  am  attached  to 

1  From  "The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


lO  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [187I 

every  stone  of  it.  The  house  was  the  old 
Mayor's  house  of  Les  Andelys,  removed  from 
Normandy  by  Lord  Stuart  de  Rothesay,  but  a 
drawing  shows  the  building  as  it  was  in  France, 
producing  a  far  finer  effect  than  as  it  was  put 
up  in  England  by  Pugin,  the  really  fine  parts, 
especially  the  great  window,  being  lower  down 
in  the  building,  and  more  made  of.  In  the 
room  to  which  that  window  belonged,  Antoyne 
de  Bourbon,  King  of  Navarre,  died.  The  por- 
traits in  the  present  room  of  the  Duchess  of 
Suflfolk  and  her  second  husband,  who  was  a 
Bertie,  have  the  old  ballad  of  The  Duchess  of 
Suffolk  "  inscribed  beneath.  They  fled  abroad, 
and  their  son  Peregrine,  born  in  a  church  porch, 
was  the  progenitor  of  the  present  Berties. 
I  have  myself  always  inhabited  the  same 
room  at  Highcliffe — one  up  a  separate  stair  of 
its  own,  adorned  with  great  views  of  the  old 
Highcliffe  and  Mount  Stuart,  and  with  old 
French  furniture,  including  a  chair  worked 
in  blue  and  red  by  Queen  Marie  Amelie  and 
Madame  Adelaide.  The  original  house  of 
Highcliffe  was  built  on  land  sold  to  Lord 
Stuart  by  a  Mr.  Penlees,  who  had  had  a  legacy 
of  bank-notes  left  him  in  the  case  of  a  cocked- 
hat — it  was  quite  full  of  them.  Mr.  Penlees 
had  built  a  very  ugly  house,  the  present  ''old 


iSyi]  IN    MY    SOLITARY    LIFE  I  I 

rooms,"  which  Lord  Stuart  cased  over.  Then 
he  said  that,  while  Lady  Stuart  was  away, 
he  would  add  a  few  rooms.  When  she  came 
back,  to  her  intense  consternation,  she  found 
the  new  palace  of  Highcliffe :  all  the  orna- 
ments, windows,  &c.,  from  Les  Andelys  having 
been  landed  close  by  upon  the  coast.  I  always 
liked  going  with  Lady  Waterford  into  the 
old  rooms,  which  were  those  principally  used 
by  Lady  Stuart,  and  contained  a  wonderful 
copy  of  Sir  Joshua  which  Lady  Waterford 
made  when  she  was  ten  years  old.  There  was 
also  a  beautiful  copy  of  the  famous  picture  of 
Lord  Royston,  done  by  Lady  Waterford  herself 
long  ago  ;  a  fine  drawing  of  the  leave-taking 
of  Charles  I.  and  his  children — Charles  with  a 
head  like  the  representations  of  the  Saviour  ; 
and  a  portrait  of  the  old  Lady  Stuart,  Grannie 
Stuart,"  with  all  the  wrinkles  smoothed  out. 

Oh,  if  I  am  like  that,  I  am  only  fit  to  die," 
she  said,  when  she  saw  it.^ 

I  have  put  down  a  few  notes  from  the  con- 
versation at  Highcliffe  this  year. 

Mr.  M.  was  remonstrated  with  because  he  would 
not  admire  Louis  PhiHppe's  regime.  He  said,  ^No, 
I  cannot ;  I  have  known  him  before  so  well.    I  am 

1  These  rooms  have  been  entirely  altered  since  Lady  Waterford's 
death. 


12 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


like  the  peasant  who,  when  he  was  remonstrated 
with  because  he  would  not  take  off  his  hat  to  a  new 
wooden  cross  that  was  put  up,  said  he  couldn't 
parceque  je  Pat  coitnu  poirier.^ " 

Some  one  spoke  to  old  Lady  Salisbury  ^  of  Adam's 
words — ^The  woman  tempted  me,  and  I  did  CcPt.' 
*  Shabby  fellow,'  she  said." 

Lady  Anne  Barnard  ^  was  at  a  party  in  France,  and 
her  carriage  never  came  to  take  her  away.  A  certain 
Duke  who  was  there  begged  to  have  the  honour  of 
taking  her  home,  and  she  accepted,  but  on  the  way 
felt  rather  awkward  and  thought  he  was  too  affectionate 
and  gallant.  Suddenly  she  was  horrified  to  see  the 
Duke  on  his  knees  at  the  bottom  of  the  carriage,  and 
was  putting  out  her  hands  and  warding  him  off,  when 
he  exclaimed,  ^  Taisez-vous,  Madame,  voila  le  bon  Dieu 
qui  passe.'    It  was  a  great  blow  to  her  vanity." 

Old  Lord  Malmesbury  ^  used  to  invent  the  most 
extraordinary  stories  and  tell  them  so  well;  indeed,  he 
told  them  till  he  quite  believed  them.  One  was  called 
'The  Bloody  Butler,'  and  was  about  a  butler  who 
drank  the  wine  and  then  filled  the  bottles  with  the 
blood  of  his  victims.  Another  was  called  'The  Moth- 
eaten  Clergyman ; '  it  was  about  a  very  poor  clergyman, 
a  Roman  he  was,  who  had  some  small  parish  in 
Southern  Germany,  and  was  a  very  good  man,  quite 
excellent,  absolutely  devoted  to  the  good  of  his  people. 
There  was,  however,  one  thing  which  mihtated  against 
his  having  all  the  influence  amongst  his  flock  which 

^  Mary  Amelia,  widow  of  the  first  Marquis. 
^  Daughter  of  the  5th  Earl  of  Balcarres. 
^  James  Edward,  2nd  Earl. 


1871]  IN    MY   SOLITARY   LIFE  1 3 

he  ought  to  have  had,  and  this  was  that  he  was  con- 
stantly observed  to  steal  out  of  his  house  in  the  late 
evening  with  two  bags  in  his  hand,  and  to  bury  the 
contents  in  the  garden ;  and  yet  when  people  came 
afterwards  by  stealth  and  dug  for  the  treasure,  they 
found  nothing  at  all,  and  this  was  thought,  well  .  .  . 
not  quite  canny. 

Now  the  diocesan  of  that  poor  clergyman,  who 
happened  to  be  the  Archbishop  of  Mayence,  was 
much  distressed  at  this,  that  the  influence  of  so  good  a 
man  should  thus  be  marred.  Soon  afterwards  he  went 
on  his  visitation  tour,  and  he  stopped  at  the  clergyman^s 
house  for  the  night.  He  arrived  with  outriders,  and 
two  postillions,  and  four  fat  horses,  and  four  fat  pug- 
dogs,  which  was  not  very  convenient.  However,  the 
poor  clergyman  received  them  all  very  hospitably,  and 
did  the  best  he  could  for  them.  But  the  Archbishop 
thought  it  was  a  great  opportunity  for  putting  an  end 
to  all  the  rumours  that  were  about,  and  with  a  view  to 
this  he  gave  orders  that  the  doors  should  be  fastened 
and  locked,  so  that  no  one  should  go  out. 

When  morning  came,  the  windows  of  the  priest^s 
house  were  not  opened,  and  no  one  emerged,  and  at  last 
the  parishioners  became  alarmed,  for  there  was  no  sound 
at  all.  But  when  they  broke  open  the  doors,  volleys 
upon  volleys  of  moths  of  every  kind  and  hue  poured 
out ;  but  of  the  poor  clergyman,  or  of  the  Archbishop 
of  Mayence,  or  of  the  outriders  and  postillions,  or  of 
the  four  fat  horses,  or  of  the  four  pug-dogs,  came  out 
nothing  at  all,  for  they  were  all  eaten  up.  For  the 
fact  was  that  the  poor  clergyman  really  had  the  most 
dreadful  disease  which  bred  myriads  of  moths ;  if  he 


14  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1871 

could  bury  their  eggs  at  night,  he  kept  them  under, 
but  when  he  was  locked  up,  and  he  could  do  nothing, 
they  were  too  much  for  him.  Now  there  is  a  moral 
in  this  story,  because  if  the  people  and  the  Archbishop 
had  looked  to  the  fruits  of  that  excellent  man's  life, 
and  not  attended  to  foolish  reports  with  which  they 
had  no  concern  whatever,  these  things  would  never 
have  happened. 

These  were  the  sort  of  things  Lord  Malmesbury 
used  to  invent.    Canning  used  to  tell  them  to  us.'' 

I  call  the  three  kinds  of  Churchism — Attitudi- 
narian,  Latitudinarian,  and  Platitudinarian." 

To  Miss  V^right. 

Holmhursty  June  12,  1871. — In  a  few  days'  soHtude 
what  a  quantity  of  work  I  have  gone  through;  and 
work  which  carries  one  back  over  a  wide  extent  of  the 
far  long-ago  always  stretches  out  the  hours,  but  how 
interesting  it  makes  them !  I  quite  feel  that  I  should 
not  have  lived  through  the  first  year  of  my  desola- 
tion without  the  companionship  of  this  work  of  the 
'  Memorials,'  which  my  darling  so  wisely  foresaw  and 
prepared  for  me.  Daily  I  miss  her  more.  Now  that  the 
flowers  are  blooming  around,  and  the  sun  shining  on  the 
lawn,  and  the  leaves  out  on  the  ash-tree  in  the  shade  of 
which  she  used  to  sit,  it  seems  impossible  not  to  think 
that  the  suffering  present  must  be  a  dream  and  that 
she  is  only  ^  not  yet  come  out ; '  and  what  the  empty 
room,  the  unused  pillow  are,  whence  the  sunshine  of 
my  life  came,  I  cannot  say.  On  Thursday  I  am  going 
for  one  day  to  Hurstmonceaux,  to  our  sacred  spot. 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


15 


The  cross  is  to  be  put  up  then.  It  is  very  beautiful, 
and  is  only  inscribed  : — 

Maria  Hare, 
Nov.  22,  1798.    Nov.  13,  1870. 

Uiitil  the  Daybreak. 

No  other  words  are  needed  there ;  all  the  rest  is 
written  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  who  loved  her. 


THE  CHURCHYARD  AT  HURSTMONCEAUX. 

I  have  been  thinking  lately  how  all  my  life  hitherto 
has  been  down  a  highway.  There  was  no  doubt  as 
to  where  the  duties  were;  there  could  be  no  doubt 
whence  the  pleasures,  certainly  whence  the  sorrows 


1 6  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1871 

would  come.  Now  there  seem  endless  byways  to 
diverge  upon.  But  all  the  interest  of  life  must  be  on 
its  highway :  the  byways  may  be  beautiful  and  attrac- 
tive, but  never  interesting." 

Sept,  26. — I  much  enjoyed  my  Peakirk  visit  to 
charming  people  (Mr.  and  Mrs.  James)  and  a  curious 
place — an  oasis  in  the  Fens,  the  home  of  St.  Pega 
(sister  of  St.  Guthlac),  whose  hermitage  with  its 
battered  but  beautiful  cross  still  remains.  I  saw 
Burleigh,  like  a  Genoese  palace  inside  ;  and  yesterday 
made  a  fatiguing  but  worth  while  pilgrimage,  for  love 
of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  to  Fotheringhay.  One  stone, 
but  only  one,  remains  of  the  castle  which  was  the 
scene  of  her  sufferings  ;  so  people  wondered  at  my 
going  so  far.  '  Why  cannot  you  let  bygones  be  by- 
gones ?  ^  said  young  W.  to  me.  However,  the  church  is 
very  curious,  and  contains  inscriptions  to  a  whole  party 
of  Plantagenets — Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall;  Cicely, 
Duchess  of  York;  Edward,  father  of  Edward  IV. — 
for  Fotheringhay,  now  a  hamlet  in  the  fen,  was  once  an 
important  place  :  the  death  of  Mary  wrought  the  curse 
which  became  its  ruin.'^ 

I  have  said  little  for  many  years  of  the  George 
Sheffield  who  was  the  dearest  friend  of  my  boy- 
hood. He  had  been  attache  at  Munich,  Wash- 
ington, Constantinople,  and  was  now  at  Paris 
as  secretary  to  Lord  Lyons.  In  this  my  first 
desolate  year  he  also  had  a  sorrow,  which  won- 
derfully reunited  us,  and  we  became  perhaps 


IN   MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


17 


ofreater  friends  than  we  had  been  before. 
Another  of  whom  I  saw  much  at  this  time 
was  Charlie  Dalison.  A  younger  son  of  a 
Kentish  squire  of  good  family,  he  went — like 
the  young  men  of  olden  time — to  London  to 
seek  his  fortunes,  and  simply  by  his  good 
looks,  winning  manners,  and  incomparable  self- 
reliance  became  the  most  popular  young  man 
in  party-giving  London  society ;  but  he  had 
many  higher  qualities. 

I  needed  all  the  support  my  friends  could 
give  me,  for  the  family  feud  about  the  Me- 
morials "  was  not  the  only  trouble  that  pressed 
upon  me  at  this  time. 

It  will  be  recollected  that,  in  my  sisters 
death-bed  will,  she  had  bequeathed  to  me  her 
claims  to  a  portrait  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 
It  was  the  very  fact  of  this  bequest  which 
in  1871  made  my  poor  Aunt  Eleanor  (Miss 
Paul)  set  up  a  counter-claim  to  the  picture, 
which  was  valued  at  ^2000. 

Five-and-twenty  years  before,  the  picture 
had  been  entrusted  for  a  time  to  Sir  John  Paul, 
who  unfortunately,  from  some  small  vanity, 
allowed  it  to  be  exhibited  in  his  own  name 
instead  of  that  of  the  owner.  But  I  never 
remember  the  time  when  it  was  not  at 
Hurstmonceaux  after  1845,  when  it  was  sent 

VOL.  IV.  B 


r8  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1871 

there.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who  was  an 
intimate  family  friend,  painted  it  in  the  house 
of  Bishop  Shipley,  when  my  father  was  two 
and  a  half  years  old.  It  was  painted  for  my 
great-aunt  Lady  Jones,  widow  of  the  famous 
Orientalist.  Lady  Jones  adopted  her  nephew 
Augustus  Hare,  and  brought  him  up  as  her 
own  son,  but,  as  she  died  intestate,  her  person- 
alty passed,  not  to  him,  but  to  her  only  surviv- 
ing sister,  Louisa  Shipley.  Miss  Shipley  lived 
many  years,  and  bequeathed  the  portrait  to  her 
youngest  nephew,  Marcus  Hare.  But  Marcus 
gave  up  his  legacy  to  my  Uncle  Julius,  who 
always  possessed  the  picture  in  my  boyhood, 
when  it  hung  over  the  dining-room  chimney- 
piece  at  Hurstmonceaux  Rectory.  Uncle  Julius 
bequeathed  the  portrait,  with  all  else  he  pos- 
sessed, to  his  widow,  who  transferred  the  pic- 
ture at  once  to  my  adopted  mother,  as  being 
the  widow  of  the  adopted  son  of  Lady  Jones. 

The  claim  of  the  opposite  party  to  the  pic- 
ture was  that  Mrs.  Hare  (''Italima")  had  said 
that  Lady  Jones  in  her  lifetime  had  promised 
to  give  her  the  picture,  a  promise  which  was 
never  fulfilled ;  and  that  my  sister,  after  her 
mother s  death,  had  said  at  Holmhurst,  ''If 
every  one  had  their  rights,  that  picture  would 
belong  to  me,  as  my  mother's  representative. 


1871J  IN    MY   SOLITARY    LIFE  1 9 

for  Lady  Jones  promised  it  to  my  mother,"  also 
that  she  proved  her  beHef  in  having  a  claim 
to  it  by  bequeathing  that  claim  to  me.  But 
tlfe  strongest  point  against  us  was  that  somehow 
or  other,  how  no  one  could  explain,  the  picture 
had  been  allowed  to  remain  for  more  than  a 
year  in  the  hands  of  Sir  John  Paul,  and  he  had 
exhibited  it.  Though  the  impending  trial  about 
the  picture  question  was  very  different  from 
that  at  Guildford,  the  violent  animosity  dis- 
played by  my  poor  aunt  made  it  most  painful, 
in  addition  to  the  knowledge  that  she  (who  had 
inherited  everything  belonging  to  my  father, 
mother,  and  sister,  and  had  dispersed  their  pro- 
perty to  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  whilst  I 
possessed  nothing  which  had  belonged  to  them) 
was  now  trying  to  seize  property  to  which  she 
could  have  no  possible  moral  right,  though 
English  law  is  so  uncertain  that  one  never  felt 
sure  to  the  last  whether  the  fact  of  the  picture 
having  been  exhibited  in  Sir  John  Paul's  name 
might  not  weigh  fatally  with  both  judge  and  jury. 

For  the  whole  month  of  November  I  was  in 
London,  expecting  the  trial  every  day,  but  it 
was  not  till  the  evening  of  the  6th  of  December 
that  I  heard  that  it  was  to  be  the  next  morning 
in  the  law-court  off  Westminster  Hall.  The 
court  was  crowded.    My  counsel,  Mr.  Pollock, 


20  THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE  [1871 

began  his  speech  with  a  tremendous  exordium. 
''Gentlemen  of  the  jury^  in  a  neighbouring 
court  the  world  is  sitting  silent  before  the 
stupendous  excitement  of  the  Tichborne  trial  : 
gentlemen  of  the  jury,  ^ka^  case  pales  into 
insignificance — pales  into  the  most  uUer  in- 
significance before  the  thrilling  interest  of  the 
present  occasion.    On  the  narrow  stage  of  this 
domestic  drama,  all  the  historic  characters  of 
the  last  century  and  all  the  literary  personages 
of  the  present  seem  to  be  marching  in  a  solemn 
procession."   And  he  proceeded  to  tell  the  really 
romantic  history  of  the  picture — how  Benjamin 
Franklin  saw  it  painted,  &c.     I  was  called  into 
the  witness-box  and  examined  and  cross-ex- 
amined for  an  hour  by  Mr.  H.  James.  As 
long  as  I  was  in  the  region  of  my  great-uncles 
and  aunts,  I  was  perfectly  at  home,  and  nothing 
in  the  cross-examination  could  the  least  confuse 
me.    Then  the  counsel  for  the  opposition  said, 
''Mr.  Hare,  on  the  20th  of  April  1866  you 
wrote  a  letter,  &c.  :  what  was  in  that  letter  ?  " 
Of  course  I  said  I  could  not  tell.    "  What  do 
you  think  was  in  that  letter  ?  "    Sol  said  some- 
thing, and  of  course  it  was  exactly  opposite  to 
the  fact. 

As  witnesses  to  the  fact  of  the  picture  having 
been  at  the  Rectory  at  the  time  of  the  marriage 


OF  ILLINOIS 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


21 


of  my  Uncle  Julius,  I  had  subpoenaed  the  whole 
surviving  family  of  Mrs.  Julius  Hare,  who 
could  witness  to  it  better  than  any  one  else,  as 
they  had  half-lived  at  Hurstmonceaux  Rectory 
after  their  sister's  marriage.  Her  two  sisters, 
Mrs.  Powell  and  Mrs.  Plumptre,  took  to  their 
beds,  and  remained  there  for  a  week  to  avoid 
the  trial,  but  Dr.  Plumptre^  and  Mr.  (F.  D.) 
Maurice  had  to  appear,  and  gave  evidence  as 
to  the  picture  having  been  at  Hurstmonceaux 
Rectory  at  the  time  of  their  sister's  marriage 
in  1845,^  and  having  remained  there  afterwards 
during  the  whole  of  Julius  Hare's  life.  Mr. 
George  Paul  was  then  called,  and  took  an  oath 
that,  till  he  went  to  America  in  1852,  the  picture 
had  remained  at  Sir  John  Paul's ;  but  such  is 
the  inattention  and  ignorance  of  their  business 
which  I  have  always  observed  in  lawyers,  that 
this  discrepancy  passed  absolutely  unnoticed. 

The  trial  continued  for  several  hours,  yet 
when  the  court  adjourned  for  luncheon  I 
believed  all  was  going  well.  It  was  a  terrible 
moment  when  afterwards  Judge  Mellor  summed 
up  dead  against  us.  Being  ignorant,  during 
my  mother's  lifetime,  of  the  clause  in  Miss 

Afterwards  Dean  of  Wells. 
'-^  The  picture  was  exhibited  in  the  spring  of  1845,         ^^'^.s  sent 
straight  to  Hurstmonceaux  from  the  Exhibition. 


2  2  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1871 

Shipley's  will  leaving  the  picture  to  Marcus 
Hare,  and  being  anxious  to  ward  off  from  her 
the  agitation  of  a  lawsuit  in  her  feeble  health, 
I  had  made  admissions  which  I  had  really 
previously  forgotten,  but  which  were  most 
dangerous,  as  to  the  difficulty  which  I  then 
felt  in  establishing  our  claim  to  the  picture. 
These  weighed  with  Judge  Mellor,  and,  if  the 
jury  had  followed  his  lead,  our  cause  would 
have  been  ruined.  The  jury  demanded  to 
retire,  and  were  absent  for  some  time.  Miss 
Paul,  who  was  in  the  area  of  the  court,  re- 
ceived the  congratulations  of  all  her  friends, 
and  I  was  so  certain  that  my  case  was  lost, 
that  I  went  to  the  solicitor  of  Miss  Paul  and 
said  that  I  had  had  the  picture  brought  to  Sir 
John  Lefevre's  house  in  Spring  Gardens,  and 
that  I  wished  to  give  it  up  as  soon  as  ever 
the  verdict  was  declared,  as  if  any  injury  hap- 
pened to  it  afterwards,  a  claim  might  be  made 
against  me  for  ^2000. 

Then  the  jury  came  back  and  gave  a  verdict 
for  .  .  .  the  defendant ! 

It  took  everybody  by  surprise,  and  it  was 
the  most  triumphant  moment  I  ever  remember. 
All  the  Pauls  sank  down  as  if  they  were  shot. 
My  friends  flocked  round  me  with  congratu- 
lations. 


1871]  IN    MY   SOLITARY   LIFE  23 

The  trial  took  the  whole  day,  the  court  sitting 
longer  than  usual  on  account  of  it.  The  enemy 
immediately  applied  for  a  new  trial,  which 
caused  us  much  anxiety,  but  this  time  I  was 
not  required  to  appear  in  person.  The  second 
trial  took  place  on  the  i6th  of  January  1872, 
before  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  Judge  Black- 
burn, Judge  Mellor,  and  Judge  Hannen,  and, 
after  a  long  discussion,  was  given  triumphantly 
in  my  favour.  Judge  Mellor  withdrawing  his 
speech  made  at  the  former  trial,  and  stating 
that,  after  reconsideration  of  all  the  facts,  he 
rejoiced  at  the  decision  of  the  jury. 

As  both  trials  were  gained  by  me,  the  enemy 
had  nominally  to  pay  all  the  costs,  but  still  the 
expenses  were  most  heavy.  It  was  just  at  the 
time  when  I  was  poorest,  when  my  adopted 
mother's  will  was  still  in  abeyance.  There 
were  also  other  aspirants  for  the  picture,  in  the 
shape  of  the  creditors  of  my  brother  Francis, 
who  claimed  as  representing  my  father  (not  my 
mother).  It  was  therefore  thought  wiser  by 
all  that  I  should  assent  to  the  portrait  being 
sold,  and  be  content  to  retain  only  in  its  place 
a  beautiful  copy  which  had  been  made  for  me 
by  the  kindness  of  my  cousin  Madeleine  Shaw- 
Lefevre.  The  portrait  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
was  sold  at  Christie's  in  the  summer  of  1872 


24 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


for  ^2200,  and  is  now  in  the  National  Gallery 
of  America  at  New  York. 

A  week  after  the  trial,  on  the  13th  of 
December,  I  left  England  for  Spain.  It  had 
at  first  been  intended  that  a  party  of  five  should 
pass  the  winter  there  together,  but  one  after 
another  fell  off,  till  none  remained  except  Miss 
Wright — ''Aunt  Sophy" — who  joined  me  in 
Paris.  The  story  of  our  Spanish  tour  is  fully 
told  in  my  book  ''Wanderings  in  Spain," 
which  appeared  first  as  articles  in  Good  Words, 
These  were  easily  written  and  pleasant  and 
amusing  to  write,  but  have  none  of  the  real 
value  of  the  articles  which  I  afterwards  con- 
tributed on  "Days  near  Rome."  I  will  only 
give  here,  to  carry  on  the  story,  some  extracts 
from  my  letters. 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Parts,  Dec,  14,  187 1. — How  different  France  and 
England !  At  Holmhurst  I  left  a  green  garden  bright 
with  chrysanthemums  and  everlastings :  here,  a  path- 
less waste  of  snow  up  to  the  tops  of  the  hedges 
became  so  deep  near  Creil  that,  as  day  broke,  we  re- 
mained fixed  for  an  hour  and  a  half  in  the  midst  of 
a  forest,  neither  able  to  move  backwards  or  forwards. 
And  by  the  side  of  the  rail  were  remains  of  a  frightful 
accident  of  yesterday — engine  smashed  to  bits,  carriages 
cut  in  half,  the  linings  hanging  in  rags,  cushions  lying 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


25 


about,  &c.  The  guard  was  not  encouraging — '  Oui,  il 
y  avait  des  victimes,  pas  beaucoup,  mais  il  y  a  toujours 
des  victimes/  .  .  .  The  state  of  Paris  is  unspeakably 
wretched,  hillocks  of  snow,  uncarted  away  and  as  high 
as  your  shoulder,  filling  the  sides  of  the  streets,  with 
a  pond  in  the  intervening  space.  The  Tuileries  (after 
the  Commune)  looks  far  worse  than  I  expected — re- 
storable,  but  for  the  present  it  has  lost  all  its  form 
and  character.  We  went  inside  this  morning,  but 
were  soon  warned  out  on  account  of  the  falling  walls 
weakened  by  the  frost." 

PaUj  Dec.  20. — 1  was  glad  to  seize  the  opportunity 
of  Aunt  Sophy's  wishing  for  a  few  days'  rest  before 
encountering  Spain  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Taylors.^  .  .  . 
This  morning  I  have  walked  on  the  terrace  of  the 
park,  and  lived  over  again  many  of  those  suffering 
scenes  when  we  were  here  before.  Truly  here  I  have 
no  feeling  but  one  of  thankfulness  for  the  Mother's 
release  from  the  suffering  body  which  was  so  great 
a  burden  to  her.  I  went  to  the  Hotel  Victoria,  and 
looked  up  at  the  windows  of  the  rooms  where,  for 
the  first  time,  we  passed  together  through  the  valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death.'' 

To  Mary  Lea  Gidman. 

Jan.  2. — You  will  imagine  how  the  long-ago  came 
back  to  me  at  Pau — the  terrible  time  when  we  were 
hourly  expecting  the  blow  which  has  now  fallen,  and 
which  we  both,  I  know,  feel  daily  and  hourly.  But 
I  think  it  was  in  mercy  that  God  spared  us  then  : 

'  Our  cousins  Sir  Alexander  and  Lady  Taylor.    See  vol.  iii. 


2  6  '    THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1872 

we  were  better  prepared  for  our  great  desolation  when 
it  really  came,  and  in  the  years  for  which  our  beloved 
one  was  given  back  to  us,  she  was  not  only  our  most 
precious  comfort  and  blessing,  for  her  also  they  were 
filled  with  comfort,  in  spite  of  sickness,  by  the  love 
with  which  she  was  ever  surrounded.  When  I  think 
of  what  the  great  blank  is,  Hfe  seems  quite  too  desolate ; 
but  when  I  think  of  her  now,  and  how  her  earthly 
life  must  have  been  one  of  increasing  infirmity,  instead 
of  the  perfected  state  from  which  I  believe  she  can  still 
look  down  upon  us,  I  am  satisfied. 

Do  you  still  keep  flowers  or  something  green  in 
her  room  ?    I  hope  so." 

To  Miss  Leyc ester. 

Convent  of  Montserratj  in  Catalonia^  Jan,  4,  1872. 
— At  the  best  of  times  you  would  never  have  been 
able  to  travel  in  Spain,  for  great  as  is  the  delight  of 
this  unspeakably  glorious  place,  I  must  confess  we 
paid  dear  for  it  in  the  sufferings  of  the  way.  The 
first  day  introduced  us  to  plenty  of  small  hardships, 
as,  a  train  being  taken  off  al  improviso^  w^e  had  to 
wade  through  muddy  lanes — and  the  Navarre  mud  is 
such  mud — in  pitch  darkness,  to  a  wretched  hovel, 
where  we  passed  the  night  with  a  number  of  others, 
in  fierce  cold,  no  fires  or  comforts  of  any  kind.  From 
thence  (Alasua)  we  got  on  to  Pamplona,  our  first 
picturesque  Spanish  town,  where  we  spent  part  of 
Christmas  Day,  and  then  went  on  to  Tudela,  where 
we  had  another  wretched  posada ;  no  fires ;  milk, 
coffee,  and  butter  quite  unknown,  and  the  meat  stewed 
in  oil  and  garhc ;  and  this  has  been  the  case  every- 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


27 


where  except  here,  with  other  and  worse  in-con- 
veniences. 

^'At  Zaragoza  we  were  first  a  Httle  repaid  by  the 
wonderful  beauty  of  the  Moorish  architecture — Hke 
lace  in  brick  and  stone,  and  the  people  as  well  as 
the  place  made  a  new  world  for  us ;  but  oh !  the 
cold ! — blocks  of  ice  in  the  streets  and  the  fiercest  of 
winds  raging.  .  .  .  No  words  certainly  can  describe 
the  awful,  the  hideous  ugliness  of  the  railway  the 
whole  way  here :  not  a  tree,  not  a  blade  of  grass  to 
be  seen,  but  ceaseless  wind-stricken  swamps  of  brown 
mud — featureless,  hopeless,  utterly  uncultivated.  How- 
ever, Manresa  is  glorious,  a  sort  of  mixture  of  Tivoli 
(without  the  waterfall)  and  Subiaco,  and  thence  we 
first  gazed  upon  the  magnificent  Monserrat. 

We  have  been  four  days  in  the  convent.  I  never 
saw  anything  anywhere  so  beautiful  or  so  astonishing 
as  this  place,  where  we  are  miles  and  miles  above 
every  living  thing  except  the  monks,  amid  the  most 
stupendous  precipices  of  3000  feet  perpendicular,  and 
yet  in  such  a  wealth  of  loveliness  in  arbutus,  box, 
lentisc,  smilax,  and  jessamine,  as  you  can  scarcely 
imagine.  Though  it  is  so  high,  and  we  have  no  fires 
or  even  brasteroSy  we  scarcely  feel  the  cold,  the  air  is 
so  still  and  the  situation  so  sheltered,  and  on  the 
sunlit  terraces,  which  overlook  the  whole  of  Catalonia 
like  a  map,  it  is  really  too  hot.  The  monks  give  us 
lodging  and  we  have  excellent  food  at  a  fonda  within 
the  convent  walls,  and  are  quite  comfortable,  though  it 
must  be  confessed  that  my  room  is  so  narrow  a  cell,  that 
when  I  go  in  it  is  impossible  to  turn  round,  and  I  have 
to  hoist  myself  on  the  little  bed  sideways. 


28 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1872 


It  has  been  a  strange  beginning  of  the  New  Year. 
We  breakfast  at  eight,  and  all  day  draw  or  follow  the 
inexhaustibly  lovely  paths  along  the  edges  of  the  pre- 
cipices. Yesterday  we  ascended  the  highest  peak  of 
the  range,  and  were  away  nine  hours — Aunt  Sophy,  the 
maid,  and  I;  and  nothing  can  describe  the  subhmity  ot 
the  views  across  so  glorious  a  foreground,  to  the  whole 
snowy  Pyrenean  ranges  and  the  expanse  of  blue  sea. 

I  act  regular  courier,  and  do  all  the  work  at  inns, 
stations,  &c.,  and  Miss  Wright  is  very  easy  to  do  for, 
and  though  very  piano  in  misfortunes,  is  most  kind 
and  unselfish.  The  small  stock  of  Spanish  which  I 
acquired  in  lonely  evenings  at  Holmhurst  enables  me 
to  get  on  quite  easily — in  fact,  we  never  have  a  diffi- 
culty ;  and  the  kindness,  civility,  and  helpfulness  of  the 
Spanish  people  compensates  for  all  other  annoyances. 
No  one  cheats,  nor  does  it  seem  to  occur  to  them.  All 
prices  are  fixed,  and  so  reasonable  that  my  week's  ex- 
penses have  been  less  than  I  paid  for  two  dismal  rooms 
and  breakfast  only  in  Half-Moon  Street." 

Barcelona^  Jan.  9. — We  arrived  here  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  Befana — a  picturesque  sight.  It  was  coming 
into  perfect  summer,  people  out  walking  in  the  beautiful 
Rambla  till  past  12  P.M.,  ladies  without  bonnets  and 
shawls.  It  is  a  very  interesting  place,  full  of  lovely 
architecture,  with  palms,  huge  orange-trees,  and  ter- 
races, and  such  a  deep  blue  sea." 

To  Mary  Lka  Gidman. 

Barcelona^  Jan.  17. — We  have  good  rooms  now, 
but  everywhere  the  food  is  shocking.    At  the  table- 


1872] 


IN   MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


29 


dhote  one  of  the  favourite  dishes  is  snail-soup,  and 
as  the  snails  are  cooked  in  their  shells,  it  does  not  look 
very  tempting.  If  the  food  were  improved,  this  coast 
would  be  better  for  invalids  in  winter  than  the  Riviera, 
as  it  is  such  a  splendid  climate — almost  too  dry,  as  it 
scarcely  ever  rains  for  more  than  fifty  days  out  of  the 
365.  The  late  Queen  ordered  every  tree  in  the  whole 
of  Spain  which  did  not  bear  fruit  to  be  cut  down,  so 
the  whole  country  is  quite  bare,  and  so  parched  and 
rocky  that  often  for  fifty  miles  you  do  not  see  a  shrub, 
but  in  some  places  there  are  palms,  olives,  oranges,  and 
caroubas. 

'^We  are  very  thankful  for  the  tea  which  Miss 
Wright^s  maid  makes  for  us  in  a  saucepan.'' 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Tarragona^  Jail.  19. — We  delighted  in  Barcelona, 
and  wondered  it  did  not  bring  people  to  this  coast 
instead  of  to  the  south  of  France.  .  .  .  We  get  on 
famously  with  the  Spaniards.  I  talk  as  much  as 
I  can,  and  if  I  cannot,  smile  and  look  pleased,  and 
everybody  seems  devoted  to  us,  and  we  are  made 
much  of  and  helped  wherever  we  go.  It  is  quite 
different  from  Italy :  and  we  are  learning  such  good 
manners  from  the  incessant  bowing  and  compliment- 
ing which  is  required." 

Cordova^  Feb.  6. — We  broke  the  dreadful  journey 
from  Valencia  to  Alicante  by  sleeping  at  Xativa,  a 
lovely  city  of  palms  and  rushing  fountains  with  a 
mountain  background,  but  the  inn  so  disgusting  we 
could  not  stay.    Alicante,  on  the  other  hand,  had  no 


30 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


attraction  except  its  excellent  hotel,  with  dry  sheets, 
bearable  smells,  no  garlic,  and  butter.  The  whole 
district  is  burnt,  tawny,  and  desolate  beyond  words — 
houses,  walls,  and  castle  ahke  dust-colour,  but  the 
climate  is  delicious,  and  a  long  palm  avenue  fringes 
the  sea,  with  scarlet  geraniums  in  flower.  With 
Elche  we  were  perfectly  enraptured — the  forests  of 
palms  quite  glorious,  many  sixty  feet  high  and  laden 
with  golden  dates  ;  the  whole  place  so  Moorish,  and 
the  people  with  perfectly  Oriental  hospitality  and 
manners.  We  spent  four  days  there,  and  were  out 
drawing  from  eight  in  the  morning  to  five  in  the 
afternoon ;  such  subjects — but  I  lamented  not  being  able 
to  draw  the  wonderful  figures — copper-coloured  with 
long  black  hair ;  the  men  in  blue  velvet,  with  manias 
of  crimson  and  gold  and  large  black  sombreros. 

''It  was  twenty-three  hours'  journey  here,  and  no 
possible  stopping-place  or  buffet.  But  as  for  Miss 
Wright,  she  never  seems  the  worse  for  anything,  and 
is  always  equally  kind  and  amiable.  She  is,  however, 
very  piano  in  spirits,  so  that  I  should  be  thankful 
for  a  little  pleasant  society  for  her,  as  it  must  have 
been  fearfully  dull  having  no  one  but  me  for  so  long. 

''We  were  disappointed  with  Murcia,  though  its 
figures  reach  a  climax  of  grotesque  magnificence, 
every  plough-boy  in  the  colours  of  Solomon's  temple. 
But  though  we  had  expected  to  find  Cordova  only 
very  interesting,  it  is  also  most  beautiful — the  immense 
court  before  the  mosque  filled  with  fountains  and 
old  orange-trees  laden  with  fruit,  and  the  mosque 
itself,  with  its  forest  of  pillars,  as  solemn  as  it  is 
picturesque." 


IN    MY  SOLITARY  LIFE 


31 


To  Mary  Lea  Gidman. 

Seville^  Feb.  10. — The  dirt  and  discomfort  of  the 
railway  journey  to  Cordova  was  quite  indescribable,  but 
the  mosque  is  glorious.  It  is  so  large  that  you  would 
certainly  lose  your  way  in  it,  as  it  has  more  than  a 
thousand  pillars,  and  twenty-nine  different  aisles  of 
immense  length,  all  just  like  one  another.  We  made 
a  large  drawing  in  the  court  with  its  grove  of  oranges, 
cypresses,  and  palms,  and  you  would  have  been  quite 
aghast  at  the  horrible  beggars  who  crowded  round  us 
— people  with  two  fingers  and  people  with  none ; 
people  with  ilo  legs  and  people  with  no  noses,  or 
people  with  their  eyes  and  mouths  quite  in  the  wrong 
place. 

The  present  King  (Amadeo)  is  much  disliked  and 
not  likely  to  reign  long.  Here  at  Seville,  in  the 
Carnival,  they  made  a  little  image  of  him,  which  bowed 
and  nodded  its  head,  as  kings  do,  when  it  was  carried 
through  the  street,  and  all  the  great  people  went  out 
to  meet  it  and  bring  it  into  the  town  in  mockery ; 
and  yesterday  it  was  strangled  like  a  common  criminal 
on  a  scaffold  in  the  public  square ;  and  to-day  tens 
of  thousands  of  people  are  come  into  the  town  to 
attend  its  funeral. 

'^The  Duchesse  de  Montpensier,  who  lives  here,  does 
a  great  deal  of  good,  but  she  is  very  superstitious, 
and,  when  her  daughter  was  ill,  she  walked  barefoot 
through  all  the  streets  of  Seville :  the  child  died 
notwithstanding.  She  and  all  the  great  ladies  of 
Seville  wear  low  dresses  and  flowers  in  their  hair 
when  they  are  out  walking  on  the  promenade,  but  at 


32 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


large  evening  parties  they  wear  high  dresses,  which 
is  rather  contrary  to  English  fashions.  Miss  Wright's 
bonnet  made  her  so  stared  at  and  followed  about, 
that  now  she,  and  her  maid  also,  have  been  obliged 
to  get  mantillas  to  wear  on  their  heads  instead,  which 
does  much  better,  and  prevents  their  attracting  any 
attention.  No  ladies  ever  think  of  wearing  anything 
but  black,  and  gentlemen  are  expected  to  wear  it  too 
if  they  pay  a  visit. 

I  often  feel  as  if  I  must  be  in  another  state  of 
existence  from  my  old  life  of  so  many  years  of 
wandering  with  the  sweet  Mother  and  you,  but  that 
life  is  always  present  to  me  as  the  reality — this  as 
a  dream.  There  is  one  walk  here  which  the  dear 
Mother  would  have  enjoyed  and  w^hich  always  recalls 
her — a  broad  sunny  terrace  by  the  river-side  edged 
with  marble,  which  ends  after  a  time  in  a  wild  path, 
where  pileworts  are  coming  into  bloom  under  the 
willows.  I  always  wonder  how  much  she  knows  of 
us  now ;  but  if  she  can  be  invisibly  present,  I  am 
sure  it  is  mostly  with  me,  and  then  with  you,  and 
in  her  own  room  at  Holmhurst,  whence  the  holy 
prayers  and  thoughts  of  so  many  years  of  faith  and 
love  ascended." 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Seville^  Feb.  13. — Ever  since  we  entered  Andalusia 
it  has  poured  in  torrents,  but  even  in  fine  weather 
I  think  we  must  have  been  disappointed  with  Seville. 
With  such  a  grand  cathedral  interior  and  such 
beautiful  pictures,  it  seems   hard  to  complain,  but 


• 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


33 


there  never  was  anything  less  picturesque  than  the 
narrow  streets  of  whitewashed  houses,  ugHer  than 
the  exterior  of  the  cathedral,  or  duller  than  the  sur- 
rounding country.  Being  Carnival,  the  streets  are 
full  of  masks,  many  of  them  not  very  civil  to  the 
clergy — the  Pope  being  led  along  by  a  devil  with  a 
long  tail,  &c.  Every  one  speaks  of  the  Italian  King 
(Amadeo)  as  thoroughly  despised  and  disliked,  and 
his  reign  (in  spite  of  the  tirades  in  his  favour  in 
English  newspapers)  must  now  be  limited  to  weeks  ; 
then  it  must  be  either  a  Republic,  Montpensier,  or 
Alfonso.  Here,  where  they  live,  the  Montpensiers 
are  very  popular,  and  they  do  an  immense  deal  of 
good  amongst  the  poor,  the  institutions,  and  in  en- 
couraging art.  Their  palace  of  San  Telmo  is  beau- 
tiful, with  a  great  palm-garden.  When  we  first  came, 
we  actually  engaged  lodgings  in  the  Alcazar,  the 
great  palace  of  the  Moorish  kings,  but,  partly  from 
the  mosquitoes  and  partly  from  the  ghosts,  soon  gave 
them  up  again/' 

AlgeciraSy  Feb.  25. — Though  we  constantly  asked 
one  another  what  people  admired  so  much  in  Seville, 
its  sights  took  us  just  a  fortnight.  Our  pleasantest 
afternoon  was  spent  in  a  drive  to  the  Roman  ruins  in 
Italica,  and  we  took  Miss  Butcher  with  us,  who  devotes 
her  Hfe  to  teaching  the  children  in  the  Protestant 
school,  for  which  she  gets  well  denounced  from  the 
same  cathedral  pulpit  whence  the  autos-da-fe  were 
proclaimed,  in  which  34,611  people  were  burnt  alive 
in  Seville  alone ! 

^^What  a  dull  place  Cadiz  is.    Nothing  to  make  a 

VOL.  IV.  c 


34  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1872 

feature  but  the  general  distant  effect  of  the  dazzling 
white  lines  of  houses  rising  above  a  sapphire  sea. 
We  had  a  twelve  hours^  voyage  to  Gibraltar.  I  was 
very  miserable  at  first,  but  revived  in  time  to  sketch 
Trafalgar  and  to  make  two  views  in  Africa  as  we 
coasted  along.  At  last  Gibraltar  rose  out  of  the  sea 
like  an  island,  and  very  fine  it  is,  far  more  so  than 
I  expected,  though  we  have  not  seen  the  precipice 
side  of  the  rock  yet.  As  we  turned  into  the  bay  of 
Algeciras,  numbers  of  little  boats  put  out  to  take  us 
on  shore,  and  we  are  so  enchanted  with  this  place  that 
we  shall  remain  a  few  days  in  the  primitive  hotel.  Our 
sitting-room  opens  by  large  glass  doors  on  a  balcony. 
Close  below  is  the  pretty  beach  with  its  groups  of 
brilliant  figures — Moors  in  white  burnooses,  sailors, 
peasants  in  sombreros  and  fajas.  Across  the  blue 
bay,  calm  as  glass,  with  white  sails  flitting  over  it, 
rises  the  grand  mass  of  the  Rock,  with  the  town  of 
Gibraltar  at  its  foot.  All  around  are  endless  little 
walks  along  the  shore  and  cliffs,  through  labyrinths 
of  palmito  and  prickly  pear,  or  into  the  wild  green 
moorlands  which  rise  immediately  behind,  and  beyond 
which  is  a  purple  chain  of  mountains.  It  is  the  only 
place  I  have  yet  seen  in  Spain  which  I  think  the  dear 
Mother  would  have  cared  to  stay  long  at,  and  I  can 
almost  fancy  I  see  her  walking  up  the  little  paths 
which  she  would  have  so  delighted  in,  or  sitting  on 
her  camp-stool  amongst  the  rocks." 

Gibraltar  J  March  2. — It  was  strange,  when  we 
crossed  from  Algeciras,  to  come  suddenly  in  among 
an  English-talking,  pipe-smoking,  beer-drinking  com- 


Of  THE 
UNIVER^^TY  Of  UiJNOIS 


1872]  IN    MY   SOLITARY    LIFE  3  5 

munity  in  this  swarming  place,  where  5000  soldiers 
are  quartered  in  addition  to  the  crowded  English  and 
Spanish  population.  The  main  street  of  the  town 
might  be  a  slice  cut  out  of  the  ugliest  part  of  Dover,  if 
it  were  not  for  the  numbers  of  Moors  stalking  about  in 
turbans,  yellow  slippers,  and  blue  or  white  burnooses. 
Between  the  town  and  Europa  Point,  at  the  African 
end  of  the  promontory,  is  the  beautiful  Alameda,  walks 
winding  through  a  mass  of  geraniums,  coronillas,  ixias, 
and  aloes,  all  in  gorgeous  flower :  for  already  the  heat 
is  most  intense,  and  the  sun  is  so  grilling  that  before 
May  the  flowers  are  all  withered  up. 

I  am  afraid  we  shall  not  be  allowed  to  go  to 
Ronda.  Mr.  Layard  has  sent  word  from  Madrid  to 
the  Governor  to  prevent  any  one  going,  as  the  famous 
brigand  chief  Don  Diego  is  there  with  his  crew.  We 
had  hoped  to  get  up  a  sufficiently  large  armed  party, 
but  so  many  stories  have  come,  that  Aunt  Sophy  and 
her  maid,  Mrs.  Jarvis,  are  getting  into  an  agony  about 
losing  their  noses  and  ears. 

'^The  Governor,  Sir  Fenwick  WilHams,  has  been 
excessively  civil  to  us,  but  our  principal  acquaintance 
here  is  quite  romantic.  The  first  day  when  we  went 
down  to  the  table-d'hote^  there  were  only  two  others 
present,  a  Scotch  commercial  traveller,  and,  below  him, 
a  rather  well-looking  Spaniard,  evidently  a  gentleman, 
but  with  an  odd  short  figure  and  squeaky  voice.  He 
bowed  very  civilly  as  we  came  in,  and  we  returned  it. 
In  the  middle  of  dinner  a  band  of  Scotch  bagpipers 
came  playing  under  the  window,  and  I  was  seized  with 
a  desire  to  jump  up  and  look  at  them.  Involuntarily 
I  looked  across  the  table  to  see  what  the  others  were 


36 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1872 


going  to  do,  when  the  unknown  gave  a  strange  bow 
and  wave  of  permission  !  With  that  wave  came  back 
to  my  mind  a  picture  in  the  Duchesse  de  Montpensier's 
bedroom  at  Seville  :  it  was  her  brother-in-law,  Don 
Francisco  d'Assise,  ex-King  of  Spain !  Since  then 
we  have  breakfasted  and  dined  with  him  every  day, 
and  seen  him  constantly  besides.  This  afternoon  I 
sat  out  with  him  in  the  gardens,  and  we  have  had 
endless  talk — the  result  of  which  is  that  I  certainly 
do  not  beheve  a  word  of  the  stories  against  him,  and 
think  that,  though  not  clever  and  rather  eccentric,  he 
is  by  no  means  an  idiot,  but  a  very  kind-hearted,  well- 
intentioned  person.  He  is  kept  here  waiting  for  a 
steamer  to  take  him  to  Marseilles,  as  he  cannot  land 
at  any  of  the  Spanish  ports.  He  calls  himself  the 
Comte  de  Balsano,  and  is  quite  alone  here,  and  evi- 
dently quite  separated  from  Queen  Isabella,  He  never 
mentions  her  or  Spain,  but  talks  quite  openly  of  his 
youth  in  Portugal  and  his  visits  to  France,  England, 
Ireland,  &c. 

I  have  remained  with  him  while  Miss  Wright  is 
gone  to  Tangiers  with  her  real  nephew.  Major  Howard 
Irby.  This  beginning  of  March  always  brings  with 
it  many  sad  recollections,  the  date — always  nearing 
March  4 — of  all  our  greatest  anxieties,  at  Pau,  Piazza 
di  Spagna,  Via  Babuino,  Via  Gregoriana.  It  is  almost 
as  incredible  to  me  now  as  a  year  and  a  half  ago  to 
feel  that  it  is  all  over — the  agony  of  suspense  so  often 
endured,  and  that  life  is  now  a  dead  calm  without 
either  sunshine  or  storm  to  look  forward  to. 

The  King  says  that  of  all  the  things  which  astonish 
"   him  in  England,  that  which  astonishes  him  most  is 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


37 


that  the  Anglo-Catholics  (so  called),  who  are  free  to 
do  as  they  please,  are  seeking  to  have  confession — 
^  the  bane  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  which  has 
brought  misery  and  disunion  into  so  many  Spanish 
homes/  One  felt  sure  he  was  thinking  of  Father 
Claret  and  the  Queen,  but  he  never  mentioned  them.'* 

March  6. — The  poor  King  left  yesterday  for  South- 
ampton— a  most  affectionate  leave-taking.  He  says  he 
will  come  to  Holmhurst :  how  odd  if  he  does  !  " 

Malaga^  March  17. — Our  pleasantest  acquaintances 
at  Gibraltar  were  the  Augustus  Phillimores,  with  whom 
we  spent  our  last  day — in  such  a  lovely  garden  on  the 
side  of  the  Rock,  filled  with  gigantic  daturas,  daphnes, 
oranges,  and  gorgeous  creeping  Bougainvillias.  Admiral 
Phillimore's  boat  took  us  on  board  the  Lisbon^  where 
we  got  through  the  voyage  very  well,  huddled  up  under 
cloaks  on  deck  through  the  long  night.  There  is  no- 
thing to  see  at  Malaga — a  dismal,  dusty,  ugly  place." 

Hotel  Siete  Suelos^  Granada^  March  19. — We  had 
a  dreadful  journey  here — rail  to  Las  Salinas  and  then 
the  most  extraordinary  diligence  journey,  in  a  car- 
riage drawn  by  eight  mules,  at  midnight,  over  no  road, 
but  rocks,  marshes,  and  along  the  edge  of  precipices — 
quite  frightful.  Why  we  were  not  overturned  I  cannot 
imagine.  I  could  get  no  place  except  at  the  top,  and 
held  on  with  the  greatest  difficulty  in  the  fearful 
lunges.  We  reached  Granada  about  3^  A.M.,  seeing 
nothing  that  night,  but  wearily  conscious  of  the  long 
ascent  to  the  Siete  Suelos. 


38 


THE  STORY    OF   MY  LIFE 


How  lovely  was  the  morning  awakening  !  our  rooms 
looking  down  long  arcades  of  high  arching  elms,  with 
fountains  foaming  in  the  openings  of  the  woods,  birds 
singing,  and  violets  scenting  the  whole  air.  It  is 
indeed  ahke  the  paradise  of  nature  and  art.  Through 
the  first  day  I  never  entered  the  Alhambra,  but  sat 
restfully  satisfied  with  the  absorbing  loveliness  of 
the  surrounding  gorges,  and  sketched  the  venerable 
Gate  of  Justice,  glowing  in  gorgeous  golden  light. 
This  morning  we  went  early  to  the  Moorish  palace. 
It  is  beyond  all  imagination  of  beauty.  As  you  cross 
the  threshold  you  pass  out  of  fact  into  fairyland.  I 
sat  six  hours  drawing  the  Court  of  Blessing  without 
moving,  and  then  we  climbed  the  heights  of  S.  Nicolas 
and  overlooked  the  whole  palace,  with  the  grand  snow 
peaks  of  Sierra  Nevada  rising  behind." 

Granada^  April  i — Easter  Sunday, — To-day 
especially  I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  was  at  Granada,  but 
in  the  churchyard  at  Hurstmonceaux.  I  am  sure 
Mrs.  Medhurst  and  other  loving  hands  will  have 
decorated  our  most  dear  spot  with  flowers.  Aunt 
Sophy  is  most  kind,  only  too  kind  and  indulgent 
always,  but  the  thought  of  the  one  for  and  tliroiigli 
whom  alone  I  could  really  enjoy  anything  is  never 
absent  from  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  lived  in  a  life  which 
was  not  mine — beautiful  often,  but  only  a  beautiful 
moonlight:  the  sunlight  has  faded." 

Toledo,  April  1 1. — We  had  twelve  hours'  diligence 
from  Granada,  saw  Jaen  Cathedral  on  the  way,  and 
joined  the  railroad  at  the  little  station  of  Mengibar. 


""sirv  Of  iium, 


i872] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


39 


Next  morning  found  us  at  Aranjuez,  a  sort  of  Spanish 
Hampton  Court,  rather  quaint  and  pleasant,  four-fifths 
of  the  place  being  taken  up  by  the  palace  and  its 
belongings,  so  much  beloved  by  Isabella  (II.);  but 
since  deserted.  We  went  to  bed  for  four  hours,  and 
spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  surveying  half-furnished 
palaces,  unkempt  gardens,  and  dried-up  fountains,  yet 
pleasant  from  the  winding  Tagus,  lilacs  and  Judas- 
trees  in  full  bloom,  and  birds  singing.  It  was  a  nice 
primitive  little  inn,  and  the  landlord  sat  on  the  wooden 
gallery  in  the  evening  and  played  the  guitar,  and  all 
his  men  and  maids  sang  round  him  in  patriarchal 
family  fashion. 

On  the  whole,  I  feel  a  little  disappointed  at  present 
with  this  curious,  desolate  old  city :  the  cathedral  and 
everything  else  looks  so  small  after  one^s  expectations, 
and  the  guide-books  exaggerate  so  tremendously  all 
over  Spain. 

My  last  day  at  Granada  was  saddened  by  your 
mention  of  what  is  really  a  great  loss  to  me — dear 
old  Mr.  Liddell's  death, ^  so  kind  to  me  ever  since  I 
was  a  little  boy,  and  endeared  by  the  many  associations 
of  most  happy  visits  at  Bamborough  and  Easington.  I 
had  also  sad  news  from  Holmhurst  in  the  death  of 
dear  sweet  Romo,  the  Mother's  own  little  dog,  which 
no  other  can  ever  be." 

'^Madrid,  April  20. — We  like  Madrid  better  than 
we  expected.    It  is  a  poor  miniature  of  Paris,  the 

^  The  Rev.  Henry  Licldell,  brother  of  my  great-uncle  Ravensworth, 
and  whose  wife,  Charlotte  Lyon,  was  niece  of  my  great-grandmother, 
Lady  Anne  Simpson. 


40  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1872 

Prado  like  the  Champs  Elysees,  the  Museo  answering 
to  the  Louvre,  though  all  on  the  smallest  possible 
scale.  It  has  been  everything  to  us  having  our  kind 
friends  Don  Juan  and  Dona  Emiha  de  Riano  here, 
and  we  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  them.  They  have 
a  beautiful  house,  full  of  books  and  pictures,  and  every 
day  she  has  come  to  take  us  out,  and  has  gone  with 
us  everywhere,  taking  us  to  visit  all  the  interesting 
literary  and  artistic  people,  showing  us  all  the  political 
characters  on  the  Prado,  escorting  us  to  galleries,  &c., 
and  in  herself  a  mine  of  information  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  delightful  kind — a  sort  of  younger  Lady 
Waterford.  She  gives  a  dreadful  picture  of  the  im- 
morahty  of  society  in  Madrid  under  the  Italian  King, 
the  want  of  law,  the  hopelessness  of  redress ;  that 
everything  is  gained  by  influence  in  high  places, 
nothing  by  right.  A  revolution  is  expected  any  day, 
and  then  the  King  must  go.  The  aristocratic  Madri- 
lenians  all  speak  of  him  as  '  the  little  Italian  wretch,' 
though  they  pity  his  pretty  amiable  Queen.  All  seem 
to  want  to  get  rid  of  him,  and,  whatever  is  said  by 
English  newspapers,  we  have  never  seen  any  one  in 
Spain  who  was  not  hankering  after  the  Bourbons  and 
the  handsome  young  Prince  of  Asturias,  who  is  sure 
to  be  king  soon. 

'^The  pleasantest  of  all  the  people  Madame  de 
Riano  has  taken  us  to  visit  are  the  splendid  artist 
Don  Juan  de  Madraza  and  his  most  lovely  wife.^ 

'^The  Layards  have  been  very  civil.  At  a  party 
there  we  met  no  end  of  Spanish  grandees.  The 

^  Don  Juan  died  in  1880,  leaving  his  last  great  work,  the  restoration 
of  Leon  Cathedral,  unfinished. 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


41 


Queen's  lady-in-waiting  (she  has  only  two  who 
will  consent  to  take  office),  Marqueza  d'Almena,  was 
quite  lovely  in  white  satin  and  pearls — like  an  old 
picture." 

Segovia^  April  28. — I  was  quite  ill  at  Madrid 
with  severe  sore  throat  and  cough,  and  this  in  spite 
of  the  care  I  was  always  taking  of  myself,  having 
been  so  afraid  of  falling  ill.  But  it  is  the  most 
treacherous  climate,  and,  from  burning  heat,  changes 
to  fierce  ice-laden  winds  from  the  Guadarama  and 
torrents  of  cold  rain.  I  was  shut  up  five  days,  but 
cheered  by  visits  from  Madame  de  Riano,  young 
Arthur  Seymour  an  attache,  and  the  last  day,  to  my 
great  delight,  the  well-known  Holmhurst  faces  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Scrivens  (Hastings  banker),  brimming 
with  Sussex  news.  Mr.  Layard  was  evidently  very 
anxious  to  get  us  and  all  other  travelling  English 
safe  out  of  Spain,  but  we  preferred  the  alternative, 
suggested  by  the  Rianos,  of  coming  to  this  '  muy 
pacifico^  place,  and  waiting  till  the  storm  was  a  little 
blown  over.  Madrid  was  certainly  in  a  most  un- 
comfortable state,  the  Italian  King  feeling  the  days 
of  his  rule  quite  numbered,  houses  being  entered 
night  and  day,  and  arrests  going  on  everywhere. 
I  do  not  know  what  EngHsh  papers  tell,  but  the 
Spanish  accounts  are  alarming  of  the  whole  of  the 
north  as  overrun  by  Carlists,  and  that  they  have  taken 
Vittoria  and  stopped  the  tunnel  on  the  main  line. 

It  was  a  dreadful  journey  here.  The  road  was 
cut  through  the  snow,  but  there  was  fifteen  feet  of 
it  on  either  side  the  way  on  the  top  of  the  Guadarama. 


42 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


However,  our  ten  mules  dragged  us  safely  along. 
Segovia  is  gloriously  picturesque,  and  the  hotel  a  very 
tolerable — pothouse." 

Salamanca^  May  5. — One  day  at  the  Segovia  table- 
d'hote  we  had  the  most  unusual  sight  of  a  pleasing  young 
Englishman,  who  rambled  about  and  drew  with  us  all 
afternoon,  and  then  turned  out  to  be — the  Duchess  of 
Cleveland's  younger  son,  Everard  Primrose.^ 

May-day  we  spent  at  La  Granja,  one  of  the  many 
royal  palaces,  and  one  which  would  quite  enchant  you. 
It  is  a  quaint  old  French  chateau  in  lovely  woods  full 
of  fountains  and  waterfalls,  quite  close  under  the  snow 
mountains ;  and  the  high  peaks,  one  glittering  mass  of 
snow,  rise  through  the  trees  before  the  windows.  The 
inhabitants  were  longing  there  to  have  the  Bourbons 
back,  and  only  spoke  of  the  present  King  as  '  the  in- 
offensive Italian.'  Even  Cristina  and  Isabella  will  be 
cordially  welcomed  if  they  return  with  the  young 
Alfonso. 

''On  May  2nd  we  left  Segovia  and  went  for  one 
night  to  the  Escurial — such  a  gigantic  place,  no  beauty, 
but  very  curious,  and  the  relics  of  the  truly  religious 
though    cruelly  bigoted  Philip   II.    very  interesting. 

^  This  was  my  first  meeting  with  Everard  Primrose,  afterwards 
for  many  years  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends.  He  had  a  cold 
manner,  which  was  repellant  to  those  who  did  not  know  him  well, 
and  in  conversation  he  was  tantalising,  for  nothing  came  out  of  him 
at  all  comparable  to  what  one  knew  was  within.  But  no  young 
man's  life  was  more  noble,  stainless,  and  full  of  highest  hopes  and 
purposes.  He  died — to  my  lasting  sorrow — of  fever  during  the  African 
campaign  of  1885.  His  mother  printed  a  memoir  afterwards,  which 
was  a  beautiful  and  simple  portrait  of  his  life — a  very  model  of 
biographical  truth. 


,jM_!v/r^S!,TY  OF  iUJHOiS 


i872] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


43 


Then  we  were  a  day  at  Avila,  at  an  English  inn  kept  by 
Mr.  John  Smith  and  his  daughter — kindly,  hearty  people. 
Avila  is  a  paradise  for  artists,  and  has  remains  in 
plenty  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  in  whose  intimate  com- 
panionship one  seems  to  live  during  one's  whole  tour 
in  Spain.  It  was  a  most  fatiguing  night-journey  of  ten 
hours  to  Salamanca,  a  place  I  have  especially  wished 
to  see — not  beautiful,  but  very  curious,  and  we  have 
introductions  to  all  the  great  people  of  the  place. 

I  shall  be  very  glad  now  to  get  home  again.  It  is 
such  an  immense  separation  from  every  one  one  has 
ever  seen  or  heard  of,  and  such  a  long  time  to  be  so 
excessively  uncomfortable  as  one  must  be  at  even  the 
best  places  in  Spain.  Five-o'clock  tea,  which  we 
occasionally  cook  in  a  saucepan — without  milk  of  course 
— is  a  prime  luxury,  and  is  to  be  indulged  in  to-day 
as  it  is  Sunday.*' 

Biarritz y  May  12. — We  are  thankful  to  be  safe 
here,  having  seen  Zamora,  Valladolid,  and  Burgos 
since  we  left  Salamanca.  The  stations  were  in  an 
excited  state,  the  platforms  crowded  with  people  wait- 
ing for  news  or  giving  it,  but  we  met  with  no  difficulties. 
I  cannot  say  with  what  a  thrill  of  pleasure  I  crossed 
the  Bidassoa  and  left  the  great  discomforts  of  Spain 
behind.  What  a  luxury  this  morning  to  see  once 
more  tea  !  butter !  !  cow's  milk  ! ! !  " 

Paris y  May  20. — Most  lovely  does  France  look 
after  Spain — the  flowers,  the  grass,  the  rich  luxuriant 
green,  of  which  there  is  more  to  be  seen  from  the 
ugliest  French  station  than  in  the  whole  of  the  Spanish 


44  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1872 

peninsula  after  you  leave  the  Pyrenees.  I  have  spent 
the  greater  part  of  three  days  at  the  Embassy,  where 
George  Sheffield  is  most  affectionate  and  kind — no 
brother  could  be  more  so.  We  have  been  about 
everywhere  together,  and  it  is  certainly  most  charming 
to  be  with  a  friend  who  is  always  the  same,  and  asso- 
ciated with  nineteen  years  of  one's  intimate  past." 

Dover  Station^  May  23. — On  Monday  George 
drove  me  in  one  of  the  open  carriages  of  the  Embassy 
through  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  to  S.  Cloud,  and  I 
thought  the  woods  rather  improved  by  the  war  injuries 
than  otherwise,  the  bits  cut  down  sprouting  up  so 
quickly  in  bright  green  acacia,  and  forming  a  pleasant 
contrast  with  the  darker  groves  beyond.  We  strolled 
round  the  ruined  chateau,  and  George  showed  the 
room  whither  he  went  to  meet  the  council,  and  offer 
British  interference  just  before  war  was  declared,  in  vain, 
and  now  it  is  a  heap  of  ruins — blackened  walls,  broken 
caryatides.^  What  a  lovely  view  it  is  of  Paris  from  the 
terrace :  I  had  never  seen  it  before.  Pretty  young 
French  ladies  were  begging  at  all  the  park  gates  for  the 
dishoused  poor  of  the  place,  as  they  do  at  the  Exhibition 
for  the  payment  of  the  Prussian  debt.  George  was  as 
delightful  as  only  he  can  be  when  he  likes,  and  we 
were  perfectly  happy  together.  At  /  P.M.  I  went  again 
to  the  Embassy.  All  the  lower  rooms  were  lighted  and 
full  of  flowers,  the  corridors  all  pink  geraniums  with  a 
mist  of  white  spirea  over  them.  The  Duchesse  de  la 
Tremouille  was  there,  as  hideous  as  people  of  historic 
name  usually  are.    Little  fat  Lord  Lyons  was  most 

^  It  has  since  been  entirely  destroyed. 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


45 


amiable,  but  his  figure  is  like  a  pumpkin  with  an  apple 
on  the  top.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  he  is  as  clever  as 
he  is  supposed  to  be.  He  is  sometimes  amusing,  how- 
ever. Of  his  diplomatic  relations  with  the  Pope  he  says, 
^  It  is  so  difficult  to  deal  diplomatically  with  the  Holy 


FOUNTAIN  OF  S.  CLOUD.  1 


Spirit.'  He  boasts  that  he  arrived  at  the  Embassy 
with  all  he  wanted  contained  in  a  single  portmanteau, 
and  that  if  he  were  called  upon  to  leave  it  for  ever  to- 
day, the  same  would  suffice.  He  has  collected  and 
acquired — nothing !  He  evidently  adores  George,  and 
I  don't  wonder !  " 


1  From  "Paris." 


46 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1872 


To  Miss  Wright. 

Holmlnirsty  May  24,  1872. — You  will  like  to  know 
I  am  safe  here.  I  found  fat  John  Gidman  waiting  at 
the  Hastings  station,  and  drove  up  through  the  flowery 
lanes  to  receive  dear  Lea's  welcome — most  tearfully 
joyous.  The  little  home  looks  very  lovely,  and  I  cannot 
be  thankful  enough — though  its  sunshine  is  always 
mixed  with  shadow — to  have  a  home  in  which  every- 
thing is  a  precious  memorial  of  my  sacred  past,  where 
every  shrub  in  the  garden  has  been  touched  by  my 
mother's  hand,  every  little  walk  trodden  by  her  footsteps, 
and  where  I  can  bring  up  mental  pictures  of  her  in  every 
room.  In  all  that  remains  I  can  trace  the  sweet  wis- 
dom which  for  years  laid  up  so  much  to  comfort  me, 
which  sought  to  buy  this  place  when  she  did,  in  order 
to  give  sufficient  association  to  make  it  precious  to 
me ;  above  all,  which  urged  her  to  the  supreme  effort 
of  returning  here  in  order  to  leave  it  for  me  with  the 
last  sacred  recollections  of  her  life.  In  the  work 
of  gathering  up  the  fragments  from  that  dear  life  I 
am  again  already  engrossed,  and  Spain  and  its  in- 
terests are  passing  into  the  far  away ;  yet  I  look  back 
upon  them  with  much  gratitude,  and  especially  upon 
your  long  unvaried  kindness  and  your  patience  with 
my  many  faults." 

May  26. — To-night  it  blows  a  hurricane,  and  the 
wind  moans  sadly.  A  howhng  wind,  I  think,  is  the 
most  melancholy  natural  accompaniment  which  can 
come  to  a  solitary  life.  After  this,  I  must  give  you — 
to  meditate  on — a  beautiful  passage  I  have  been  reading 


1 872] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


47 


in  Mrs.  Somerville — ^  At  a  very  small  height  above  the 
surface  of  the  earth  the  noise  of  the  tempest  ceases, 
and  the  thunder  is  heard  no  more  in  those  boundless 
regions  where  the  heavenly  bodies  accomplish  their 
periods  in  eternal  and  sublime  silence/  " 

It  is  partly  the  relief  I  experienced  after 
Spain  and  the  animation  of  ever-changing 
society  which  make  me  look  back  upon  the 
summer  of  1872  as  one  of  the  happiest  I  have 
spent  at  Holmhurst.  A  constant  succession  of 
guests  filled  our  little  chambers,  every  one  v^as 
pleased,  and  the  weather  was  glorious.  I  was 
away  also  for  several  short  but  very  pleasant 
glimpses  of  London,  and  began  to  feel  how 
little  the  virulence  of  some  of  my  family  signi- 
fied when  there  was  still  so  much  friendship 
and  affection  left  to  me. 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Holmhursty  June  21,  1872. — I  am  feehng  ungrate- 
ful for  never  having  written  since  my  happy  fortnight 
with  you  came  to  a  close,  a  time  which  I  enjoyed  more 
than  I  ever  expected  to  enjoy  anything  again,  and 
which  made  me  feel  there  might  still  be  something 
worth  living  on  for,  so  much  kindness  and  affection 
did  I  receive  from  so  many.  It  is  pleasant  too  to  think 
of  your  comfortable  home,  which  rises  before  me  in 
a  gallery  of  happy  pictures,  and  I  know  it  all  so  well 
now,  from  the  parrot  in  Mrs.  Jarvis's  room  to  the 


48  THE    STORY    OF    MY    LIFE  [1872 

red  geraniums  in  your  window.  I  have  had  Mrs.  and 
Miss  Kuper  here,  and  now  I  am  alone,  no  voice  but 
that  of  the  guinea-fowls  shrieking  ^ Come  back'  in  the 
garden.  I  miss  all  my  London  friends  very  much, 
but  suppose  one  would  not  enjoy  it  if  it  went  on 
always,  and  certainly  solitude  is  the  time  for  work :  I 
did  eleven  hours  of  it  yesterday.  As  regards  my 
books,  I  feel  more  and  more  with  Arnold  that  a  man 
is  only  fit  to  teach  as  long  as  he  is  himself  learning 
daily." 

Holmhursty  June  25. — ^  Poor  Aunt  Sophy'  would 
not  have  thought  she  had  done  nothing  to  cheer  me, 
could  she  have  seen  the  interest  with  which  I  read 
her  letter  and  returned  to  it  over  and  over  again. 
Such  a  letter  is  quite  delightful,  and  here  has  the 
effect  of  one  reaching  Robinson  Crusoe  in  Juan  Fer- 
nandez, so  complete  is  the  silence  and  solitude  when 
no  one  is  staying  here. 

'  The  flowers  my  guests,  the  birds  my  pensioners, 
Books  my  companions,  and  but  few  beside.'  ^ 

How  I  delight  in  knowing  all  that  the  delightful 
human  beings  are  about,  of  whom  I  think  now  as 
living  in  another  hemisphere.  I  should  like  to  see 
more  of  people — -perhaps  another  year  I  may  not  be 
so  busy :  that  is,  I  long  for  the  cream  which  I  enjoyed 
with  you,  but  I  should  not  care  for  the  milk  and  water 
of  a  country  neighbourhood.    If  one  has  too  much 


1  W.  S.  Landor. 


1872] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


49 


people-seeing,  however,  even  of  the  London  best,  one 
feels  that  it  is  'a  withering  world,' ^  and  that  if — 

'  The  world  is  too  much  with  us,  late  and  soon, 
Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers.'  ^ 

I  have  been  made  very  ill-tempered  all  day  because 
Murray,  during  my  absence  in  Spain,  has  published  a 
second  edition  of  my  Oxfordshire  Handbook,  greatly 
altered,  without  consulting  me,  and  it  seems  to  me 
utterly  spoilt  and  vulgarised.  He  is  obliged  by  his 
contract  to  give  me  £\0^  but  I  would  a  great  deal  rather 
have  seen  the  book  uninjured  and  received  nothing." 

To  Miss  Leycester  (after  a  long  visit  from  her  at  Holmhurst). 

Hohnhurstj  August  i8,  1872. — There  seems  quite 
a  chaos  of  things  already  to  be  said  to  the  dear  cousin 
who  has  so  long  shared  our  quiet  life,  and  who  has  so 
much  care  for  the  simple  interests  of  this  little  home. 
Much  have  I  missed  her  —  in  her  chair,  with  her 
crotchet ;  sitting  on  the  terrace ;  and  especially  in  the 
early  morning  walk  yesterday,  when  the  garden  was 
in  its  richest  beauty,  all  the  crimson  and  blue  flowers 
twinkling  through  a  veil  of  dewdrops,  and  when  *  the 
gentleness  of  Heaven  was  on  the  sea,'  as  Wordsworth 
would  say.  I  am  grieved  to  think  of  you  in  London, 
instead  of  in  your  country  home. 

Our  visit  to  Hurstmonceaux  was  thoroughly  en- 
joyed by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pile.^    For  myself,  I  shall  always 

^  Dr.  Chalmers. 

2  Wordsworth. 

3  For  these  old  friends  of  my  mother,  vide  vols.  i.  and  iii. 
VOL,  IV.  D 


50  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1872 

feel  such  short  visits  produce  such  extreme  tension  of 
conflicting  feeHngs  that  they  are  scarcely  a  pleasure. 
Most  lovely  was  the  drive  for  miles  through  Ash- 
burnham  beech  and  pine  woods  and  by  its  old  timber- 
yard.  At  Lime  Cross  we  saw  Mrs.  Isted  at  her 
familiar  window,  and  the  dear  woman  sat  there  all 
the  afternoon  to  have  another  glimpse  on  our  return. 
We  drove  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  walked  up  to  the 
church.  Our  sacred  spot  looked  most  peaceful,  its 
double  hedge  of  fuchsia  in  full  flower,  and  the  turf  as 
smooth  as  velvet.  We  had  luncheon  in  the  church 
porch,  and  then  went  to  the  castle,  and  back  through 
the  park  uplands,  high  with  fern,  to  Hurstmonceaux 
Place.  How  often,  at  Hurstmonceaux  especially,  I 
now  feel  the  force  of  Wordsworth  ^s  lines: 

'  Thanks  to  the  human  heart  by  which  we  live, 
Thanks  to  its  tenderness,  its  joys  and  fears. 
To  me  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears.' " 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Holmhurst^  Sept,  6,  1872. — If  my  many  guests  of 
the  last  weeks  have  liked  their  visits,  I  have  most 
entirely  enjoyed  having  them  and  the  pleasant  influx 
of  new  life  and  new  ideas.  Dear  old  Mrs.  Robert 
Hare  is  now  very  happy  here,  and  most  grateful  for 
the  very  small  kindness  I  am  able  to  show.  I  have 
pressed  her  to  make  a  long  visit,  as  it  is  a  real  delight 
to  give  so  much  pleasure,  though  humbling  to  think 
that,  when  one  can  do  it  so  easily,  one  does  not  do  it 
oftener.    She  is  quite  stone-deaf,  so  we  sit  opposite 


1872]  IN    MY   SOLITARY    LIFE  5  I 

one  another  and  correspond  on  a  slate.^  On  Tuesday  I 
fetched  Marcus  Hare  from  Battle.  He  also  is  intensely 
happy  here;  but  his  aunts,  the  Miss  Stanleys,  have 
written  to  refuse  to  see  him  again  or  allow  him  to  visit 
them,  because  he  has  been  to  see  the  author  of  the 
^  Memorials/  I  took  him  to  Hurstmonceaux  yester- 
day, and  lovely  was  the  first  flush  of  autumn  on  our 
dear  woods,  while  the  castle  looked  most  grand  in  the 
solemn  stillness  of  its  misty  hollow.  Next  week  I 
shall  have  George  Sheffield  here.^^ 

In  September  I  paid  a  pleasant  visit  to  my 
cousin  Edward  Liddell,  whom  I  found  married 
to  his  sweet  wife  (Christina  Fraser  Tytler)  and 
Hving  in  the  Rectory  in  Wimpole  Park  in 
Cambridgeshire,  close  to  the  great  house  of 
our  cousin  Lord  Hardwicke,  which  is  very 
ugly,  though  it  contains  many  fine  pictures.^ 
In  the  beginning  of  October  I  was  at  Ford 
with  Lady  Waterford,  meeting  the  Ellices, 
Lady  Marion  Alford,  and  Lady  Herbert  of 
Lea,  who  had  much  to  tell  of  La  Palma,  the 
estatica  of  Brindisi,  who  had  the  stigmata, 
and  could  tell  wonderful  truths  to  people  about 
their  past  and  future.  Lady  Herbert  had  been 
to  America,  Trinidad,  Africa — in  fact,  every- 

^  This  dear  old  lady  (widow  of  a  first  cousin  of  my  father's)  lived  in 
uncomplaining  poverty  till  1891,  and  was  a  great  pleasure  to  me.  I  was 
glad  to  be  able  to  contribute  to  the  support  of  her  small  establishment 
at  Norbiton. 

Since  this  was  written  the  pictures  have  all  been  dispersed. 


52 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1872 


where,  and  in  each  country  had,  or  thought 
she  had,  the  most  astounding  adventures — 
Hving  with  bandits  in  a  cave,  overturned  on 
a  precipice,  &c.  She  had  travelled  in  Spain 
and  was  brimful  of  its  delights.      She  had 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  WINDOW,  FORD.^ 

armed  herself  with  a  Papal  permit  to  enter 
all  monasteries  and  convents.  She  had  annexed 
the  Bishop  of  Salamanca  and  driven  in  his  coach 
to  Alva,  the  scene  of  S.  Teresa's  later  life.  The 
nuns  refused  to  let  her  come  in,  and  the  abbess 

1  From  "The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


53 


declared  it  was  unheard  of ;  but  when  Lady 
Herbert  produced  the  bishop  and  the  Papal 
brief,  she  got  in,  and  the  nuns  were  so  captivated 
that  they  not  only  showed  her  S.  Teresa's  dead 
body,  but  dressed  her  up  in  all  S.  Teresa's 
clothes,  and  set  her  in  S.  Teresa's  arm-chair, 
and  gave  her  her  supper  out  of  S.  Teresa's 
porringer  and  platter.  Can  you  see  Lady 
Jane  Ellice's  face,"  I  read  in  a  letter  from  Ford 
to  Miss  Leycester,  as  Lady  Herbert  '  goes  on  ' 
about  the  Blessed  Paul  of  the  Cross,  the  holy 
shift  of  S.  Teresa,  and  the  saintly  privileges 
of  a  hermit's  life  ?  "  The  first  evening  she  was 
at  Ford  Lady  Herbert  said  :  — 

Did  you  never  hear  the  story  of  '  La  Jolie  Jambe  '  ? 
Well,  then,  I  will  tell  it  you.  Robert,  my  brother-in- 
law,  told  me.  He  knew  the  old  lady  it  was  all  about  in 
Paris,  and  had  very  often  gone  to  sit  with  her. 

*^lt  was  an  old  lady  who  lived  at  Me  pavilion  dans 
le  jardin.'  The  great  house  in  the  Faubourg  was 
given  up  to  the  son,  you  know,  and  she  lived  in  the 
pavilion.  It  was  a  very  small  house,  only  five  or  six 
rooms,  and  was  magnificently  furnished,  for  the  old 
lady  was  very  rich  indeed,  and  had  a  great  many 
jewels  and  other  valuable  things.  She  lived  quite  alone 
in  the  pavilion  with  her  maid,  but  it  was  considered 
quite  safe  in  that  high-terraced  garden,  raised  above 
everything  else,  and  which  could  only  be  approached 
through  the  house. 


54 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


^'  However,  one  morning  the  old  lady  was  found 
murdered,  and  all  her  jewels  and  valuables  were  gone. 
Of  course  suspicion  fell  upon  the  maid,  for  who  else 
could  it  be  ?  She  was  taken  up  and  tried.  The  evidence 
was  insufficient  to  convict  her,  and  she  was  released,  but 
every  one  believed  her  guilty.  Of  course  she  could  get 
no  other  place,  and  she  was  so  shunned  and  pointed  at 
as  a  murderess  that  her  life  was  a  burden  to  her. 

One  day,  eleven  years  after,  the  maid  was  walking 
down  a  street  when  she  met  a  man,  who,  as  she 
passed,  looked  suddenly  at  her  and  exclaimed,  '  Oh, 
la  jolie  jambe ! '  She  immediately  rushed  up  to  a 
sergeant-de-ville  and  exclaimed,  '  Arretez-moi  cet 
homme.'  The  man  was  confused  and  hesitated,  but 
she  continued  in  an  agony,  'Arretez-le,  je  vous  dis : 
je  Faccuse,  je  I'accuse  du  meurtre  de  ma  maitresse.* 
Meanwhile  the  man  had  made  off,  but  he  was  pursued 
and  taken. 

'^The  maid  said  at  the  trial,  that,  on  the  night  of 
the  murder,  the  windows  of  the  pavilion  had  been  open 
down  to  the  ground ;  that  they  were  so  when  she  was 
going  to  bed ;  that  as  she  was  getting  into  bed  she  sat 
for  a  minute  on  its  edge  to  admire  her  legs,  looked 
at  them,  patted  one  of  them  complacently,  and  ex- 
claimed, ^  Oh,  la  jolie  jambe  ! ' 

''The  man  then  confessed  that  while  he  had  been 
hidden  in  the  bushes  of  the  garden  waiting  to  commit 
his  crime,  he  had  seen  the  maid  and  heard  her,  and 
that,  when  he  met  her  in  the  street,  the  scene  and 
the  words  rushed  back  upon  his  mind  so  suddenly,  that, 
as  if  under  an  irresistible  impulse,  his  lips  framed  the 
words  'Oh,  la  jolie  jambe.^    The  man  was  executed." 


i872] 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


Lady  Herbert  also  told  us  that — 

^^Hogg,  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  had  a  sheep-dog  to 
which  he  was  quite  devoted,  and  which  used  to  go 
out  and  collect  his  sheep.  One  day  in  winter  a  thick 
snow  came  on,  and  Hogg  was  in  the  greatest  anxiety 
about  his  flocks.  He  called  his  dog  and  explained 
all  the  matter  to  him,  telling  him  how  he  was  going 
all  round  one  side  of  the  moors  himself  to  drive  in 
his  sheep,  and  that  he  was  to  go  the  other  w^ay  and 
collect.  The  dog  understood  perfectly.  Late  in  the 
evening  the  Shepherd  returned  perfectly  exhausted, 
bringing  in  his  flock  through  the  deep  snow,  but  the  dog 
had  not  come  back.  Hour  after  hour  passed  and  the  dog 
did  not  return.  The  Shepherd,  who  was  devoted  to 
his  dog,  was  very,  anxious  about  it,  when  at  last  he 
heard  a  whining  and  scratching  at  the  door,  and  going 
out,  found  the  dog  bringing  all  his  sheep  safe,  and 
in  its  mouth  a  little  puppy,  which  it  laid  at  its  mas- 
ter's feet,  and  instantly  darted  off  through  the  snow 
to  seek  another  and  bring  it  in.  The  poor  thing  had 
puppied  in  the  snow,  but  would  not  on  that  account 
neglect  one  iota  of  its  duty.  It  brought  in  its  second 
puppy,  laid  it  in  its  master's  lap,  looked  up  wistfully 
in  his  face  as  if  beseeching  him  to  take  care  of  it, 
and — died." 

Lady  Marion  Alford  is  a  real  grande  dame. 
Some  one,  Miss  Mary  Boyle,  I  think,  w^rote  a 
little  book  called  the  Court  of  Queen  Marion," 
descriptive  of  her  and  her  intimate  circle.  At 
Ford  she  talked    much    of  the  pleasure  of 


56  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1872 

Azeglio's  Ricordi,  how  he  was  the  first  Italian 
writer  who  had  got  out  of  the  '  conciosiache 
style,'  and  she  was  delightful  with  her  reminis- 
cences of  Italy  :  — 

Once  when  I  was  spending  the  summer  in  Italy 
I  wanted  models,  and  I  was  told  by  an  old  general, 
a  friend  of  mine,  that  I  had  better  advertise,  send 
up  to  the  priests  in  the  mountains,  and  tell  them  to 
send  down  all  the  prettiest  children  in  their  villages 
to  be  looked  at :  the  lady  wanted  models ;  those  she 
chose  she  should  pay,  the  others  should  each  have 
sixpence  and  a  cake.  I  was  told  I  had  better  prepare 
for  a  good  many — perhaps  a  hundred  might  come. 
When  the  day  came,  I  never  shall  forget  our  old 
servant's  face  when  he  rushed  in — ^  Miladi,  Miladi, 
the  lane  is  full  of  them.'  There  were  seven  hundred. 
It  was  very  difficult  to  choose.  We  made  them  pass 
in  at  one  door  of  the  villa  and  out  at  the  other. 
Those  we  selected  we  sent  into  the  garden,  and  from 
these  we  chose  again.  Some  were  perfect  monsters, 
for  every  mother  thought  her  own  child  perfection. 
Those  we  selected  to  come  first  were  a  lovely  family 
of  three  children  with  their  mother.  They  were  to 
come  on  a  Wednesday.  The  day  came,  and  they 
never  appeared  :  the  next,  and  still  they  did  not  come. 
Then  we  asked  our  old  general  about  it,  and  he  said, 
'  The  fact  is,  I  have  kicked  my  carpenter  downstairs 
this  morning  because  he  said  you  were  sending  for 
the  children  to  suck  their  blood,  and  they  all  think 
so.'    They  none  of  them  ever  came. 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


57 


''Our  old  maid  Teresa  was  of  a  very  romantic 
turn  of  mind.  We  used,  when  I  was  a  child,  to  live 
in  the  Palazzo  Sciarra,  where  the  '  Maddalena  della 
Radice '  is.  She  used  to  stand  opposite  to  the  picture 
and  exclaim  in  gulpy  tones,  '  Sono  bestia  io,  e  non 
capisco  niente,  ma  questo  me  pare — pittoresco.'  My 
little  sister,  when  our  father  was  away,  stood  one 
day  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  said,  '  Io  son  padrona 
di  casa,  e  no  son  padrona  di  casa  :  voi  siete  la  servitu, 
e  non  siete  la  servitu.'  Teresa  exclaimed,  '  Questa 
diavola,  com'  e  carina.'  We  used  to  hear  Teresa 
talking  to  our  other  maid,  and  they  boasted  of  the 
number  of  times  they  had  been  beaten  by  their 
husbands.  One  day — it  was  during  the  French  occu- 
pation, when  the  bread  was  doled  out — Teresa  took 
her  tambourine  with  her  when  she  went  to  get  it, 
for  they  all  loved  flirting  with  the  soldiers ;  and  when 
her  husband  asked  her  what  it  was  for,  she  said  it 
was  to  bring  back  the  bread  in.  But  when  she  got 
inside  the  circle  of  soldiers,  they  had  a  merry  salta- 
rello.  The  husband  was  kept  back  outside  the  circle, 
and  stood  there  furious.  At  first  she  laughed  at  him, 
but  then  when  he  went  away  and  came  back  again, 
she  got  really  frightened.  And  when  she  came  out 
of  the  circle  he  flogged  her  with  a  whip  all  the  way 
back  to  the  Trastevere,  and  she  ran  before  him 
screaming. 

''  How  curious  it  is  that  '  Est  locanda '  is  still  to  be 
seen  in  Roman  windows  of  houses  to  be  let — the  one 
little  relic  of  Latin  :  and  how  odd  the  word  for 
lodgings  being  the  same  in  all  languages — Quartier, 
Quartos,  Quartiere,  Quarter,  &c." 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1872 


Lady  Marion  also  said  : — 

^'As  we  were  leaving  Gibraltar,  three  of  the  shells 
from  the  practising  fell  quite  close  to  our  yacht. 
'  Are  you  not  very  much  frightened  ? '  said  a  French 
gentleman  on  board.  '  Not  in  the  least/  I  said.  '  How 
could  I  be  ?  our  men  are  such  perfect  marksmen  ; '  but 
of  course  I  was  dreadfully." 

This  story  is  wonderfully  characteristic  of 
the  speaker :  the  Empress  Catherine  might 
have  given  such  an  answer.  About  ghosts 
Lady  Marion  was  very  amusing  : — 

''When  I  went  to  Belvoir  with  Lady  Carohne 
Cust,  they  danced  in  the  evening.  I  went  upstairs 
early,  for  I  was  tired.  As  I  was  going  to  my  room, 
Lady  Jersey — it  was  wrong  of  her,  I  think — said,  '  Oh, 
L  see  you  are  put  into  the  ghost-room.'  1  said,  '  I  am 
quite  happy ;  there  are  no  real  ghosts  here,  I  think.' — 
'Well,'  said  Lady  Jersey,  '  I  can  only  say  Miss  Drum- 
mond  slept  there  last  night,  and  she  received  letters 
of  importance  this  morning  and  left  before  breakfast.' 
Well,  I  went  into  my  room,  and  lit  the  candles  and 
made  up  the  fire,  but  very  soon  I  gave  a  great  jump,  for  I 
heard  the  most  dreadful  noise  close  at  my  elbow — 'Oh- 
0-00-00  ! '  I  thought  of  course  that  it  was  a  practical 
joke,  and  began  to  examine  every  corner  of  the  room, 
thinking  some  one  must  be  hidden  there ;  then  I  rang 
my  bell.  When  my  maid  came  in  I  said,  '  Now  don't 
be  frightened,  but  there  is  some  one  hidden  in  this 


1 872] 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


59 


room  somewhere,  and  you  must  help  me  to  find  him.' 
Very  soon  the  noise  came  again.  Then  Lady  Caro- 
line came,  and  she  heard  it :  then  her  maid  came. 
The  noise  occurred  about  every  five  minutes.  We 
examined  everything  and  stood  in  each  corner  of  the 
room.  The  noise  then  seemed  close  to  each  of  us.  At 
last  Lady  Caroline  said,  ^  I  can  stand  this  no  longer, 
and  I  must  go,'  and  she  and  her  maid  went  away  and 
shut  themselves  into  the  next  room.  Then  I  said  to  my 
maid,  '  If  you  are  frightened  you  had  better  go,'  but 
she  protested  that  she  would  rather  stay  where  she 
was ;  after  what  she  had  heard,  anything  would  be 
better  than  facing  the  long  lonely  passages  alone. 
However,  just  at  that  moment  ^  Oh-o-oo-oo  ! '  went  off 
again  close  to  her  ear,  and  with  one  spring  she  darted 
out  of  the  room  and  ran  off  as  hard  as  ever  she  could. 
I  went  courageously  to  bed  and  determined  to  brave  it 
out.  But  the  thing  went  to  bed  too,  and  went  off  at 
intervals  on  the  pillow  close  to  my  face.  And  at  last 
it  grated  on  my  nerves  to  such  a  degree  that  I  could 
bear  it  no  longer,  and  I  dragged  a  mattress  into  Lady 
Caroline's  room  and  slept  there  till  dawn.  The  next 
morning  I  also  received  letters  of  importance  and  left 
before  breakfast. 

Before  I  left,  I  sent  for  the  housekeeper,  and  said, 
'  You  really  should  not  put  people  into  that  room,'  and 
told  her  what  had  happened.  She  was  much  dis- 
tressed, and  told  me  that  there  really  was  no  other  room 
in  the  house  then,  but  confessed  it  had  often  happened 
so  before.  Some  time  after  I  went  over  to  Belvoir 
with  some  friends  who  wanted  to  see  the  castle,  and 
the  housekeeper  then  told  me  that  the  same  thing  had 


60  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  [1872 

happened  again  in  that  room,  which  was  now  per- 
manently shut  up." 

Other  guests  at  Ford  were  Mrs.  Richard 
Boyle  (known  as  E.  V.  B.),  and  her  daughter 
— very  quaint  and  original,  and  the  mother  a 
capital  artist.  We  went  to  the  Rowting  Lynn, 
a  beautiful  spot  surrounded  with  rocks  over- 
hung by  old  oak-trees.  Did  you  enjoy  your 
walk  ? "  said  Lady  Waterford  to  Mrs.  Boyle 
as  we  came  in.  Yes,  excessively.  You  never 
told  me  you  had  a  waterfall.  You  offered 
me  a  coalpit,  but  the  waterfall  you  forgot  to 
mention." 

Lady  Waterford  was  herself  more  delightful 
than  ever.  As  Marocetti  said  of  her,  ''C'est 
un  grand  homme,  mais  une  femme  charmante." 
Here  are  some  scraps  from  her  conversa- 
tion : — 

''That  is  a  sketch  of  L.  H.  She  did  not  know  I 
was  drawing  her.  She  looks  sixteen,  but  is  quite 
middle-aged.  Mama  used  to  say  she  was  like  pre- 
served green  peas.  Preserved  green  peas  are  not 
quite  so  good  as  real  green  peas,  but  they  do  very 
nearly  as  well.' 

''  I  always  take  a  little  book  with  me  in  the  train 
and  draw  the  things  as  I  pass  them.  That  is  some 
raiHngs  against  a  sunset  sky  when  it  was  almost  dark  : 
I  thought  it  was  like  a  bit  of  Tintoret. 


1872] 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


6l 


How  trying  it  is  to  be  kept  waiting  for  people. 
Don^t  you  know  the  Italian  proverb  ? — 

'  Aspettare  e  non  venire, 
Star  in  letto  e  non  dormire, 
Vuol  piacer,  e  non  gradire.' 

Miss  Boyle  had  a  much  better  one,  though — 

'  To  do,  to  suffer,  is  a  glorious  state, 
But  a  more  noble  portion  is  to  wait} 

How  beautiful  the  singing  was  in  our  young  days 
— Grisi  and  Mario  and  Lablache,  who  went  straight 
to  one's  heart  and  fluttered  there. 

Some  one,  old  Madame  de  Flahault  I  think  it  was, 
asked  what  she  could  give  as  a  present.  It  must  be 
'  tres  rare  et  pas  couteux,'  and  it  was  suggested  that 
she  should  give  a  lock  of  her  hair. 

''You  are  like  the  old  lady  who  said  she  had  never 
had  a  ripe  peach  in  her  life,  because  when  she  was 
young  all  the  old  people  had  them,  and  when  she  grew 
old  all  the  young  people  had  them. 

''I  am  longing  to  read  'Marjory,'^  but  I  cannot 
when  I  have  my  house  full — my  novel  en  action.  When 
people  are  here  and  tell  me  their  little  stories,  that  is 
what  I  like  best  to  read." 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Crook  Hallj  Lancashire^  Oct,  20,  1872. — My  visit 
at  Ford  was  perfectly  enchanting,  and  I  made  several 
new  friendships  there  in  what  you  think  my  sudden 
way,  especially  one  with  Lord  Ronald  Gower,  which 


^  Mrs.  T.  Erskine's  novel. 


62 


THE   STORY    OF   MY  LIFE 


I  think  may  become  a  pleasure.  I  much  enjoyed,  too, 
making  friends  with  Mr.  Beaumont  and  Lady  Margaret 
B.,  one  of  the  very  best  types  of  a  fine  lady  it 
is  possible  to  meet,  almost  funnily  aristocratic  in  all 
her  ideas,  and  high-minded  in  proportion.  Her  little 
person  is  arrayed  in  gowns  which  were  as  much 
things  of  beauty  in  their  way  as  a  mountain  land- 
scape ;  there  is  such  a  difference  between  ^  smart  dress,' 
and  such  a  lovely  harmony  of  shade  and  colour,  as 
one  can  scarcely  think  of  as  mere  clothing.  Then 
I  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  dear  Lady  Waterford,  and 
am  more  than  ever  instructed  and  touched  by  her 
beautiful,  noble,  holy  life.  It  is  absolutely  impossible 
to  her  to  4hink  any  evil,'  and  so,  to  her,  the  best 
side  of  every  one  comes  out.  As  an  easier  ^  let  down  ' 
than  anything  else,  I  accepted  an  invitation  from  thence 
to  Lord  and  Lady  Grey  for  three  days  at  Howick  on 
the  wild  sea-coast,  and  enjoyed  my  visit  immensely. 
No  one  has  more  completely  M'art  de  narrer'  than 
Lady  Grey,  and  he  is  full  of  old-fashioned  courtesy 
and  kindness,  such  winning  manners  and  heart-whole 
goodness. 

My  ^  Memorials '  are  out !  Ere  this  all  will  have 
it.  I  know  there  will  be  much  abuse  and  many 
varieties  of  opinion,  but  I  am  conscious  of  having 
carried  out  the  book  as  I  believe  to  be  best  for  others, 
not  for  myself,  and  in  this  consciousness  can  bear 
what  is  said.  *Je  laisse  couler  le  torrent,'  as  Mme. 
de  Sevigne  used  to  say.  One  thing  I  dread  is,  that 
people  should  think  I  am  a  better  person  than  I  am, 
on  reading  the  book:  for  I  suppose  it  is  always  the 
fact  that  a  man's  book  is  the  best  of  him,  his  thought 


872] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


63 


better  than  his  life.  But  in  any  case,  it  is  a  relief 
to  have  it  out  (as  Arthur  and  Mary  Stanley,  at  the 
last  moment,  persuaded  Mr.  Murray  to  go  to  my 
publishers  to  try  to  stop  the  publication),  yet  it  is 
also  a  wrench  to  part  with  the  occupation  and  chief 
thought  of  two  desolate  years.*' 

Dalton  Hallj  Oct.  28. — A  second  edition  of  the 
'  Memorials '  was  called  for  before  it  had  been  out 
three  days.  I  have  had  many  letters  about  it — charm- 
ing ones  from  Mrs.  Arnold  and  the  old  Baroness  de 
Bunsen.  The  olive-bearing  dove  has  gone  out  with 
healing  on  his  wings,  and  all  the  mists  are  cleared  off 
and  the  long-standing  feuds  of  the  Hare  family  healed 
by  the  book.    Still  the  Stanleys  make  no  sign. 

'  Alas  !  how  easily  things  go  wrong  ! 
A  sigh  too  much  or  a  kiss  too  long, 
And  there  follows  a  mist  and  a  weeping  rain, 
And  life  is  never  the  same  again.'  ^ 

I  certainly  do  suffer  very  much  when  people 
mean  me  to  do  so,  to  a  degree  which  must  be  quite 
satisfactory  to  them  ;  but  then  in  compensation  I  always 
enjoy  very  much  when  it  is  the  reverse.  It  is  as  I 
read  somewhere — ^  He  who  is  the  first  to  be  touched 
by  the  thorns  is  soonest  awake  to  the  flowers.* 

From  the  Oswald  Penrhyns*  at  Huyton  I  saw 
in  the  same  day  two  great  houses — the  vast  and 
hideous  Knowsley,  which  interested  me  from  its  con- 
nection with  my  Mother's  youth,  and  the  glorious  old 
hall  of  Speke,  which  has  an  air  of  venerable  beauty 

^  George  Macdonald. 


64 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1872 


quite  unrivalled.  Then  I  went  for  some  days  to 
Lord  Brougham's,  a  delightful  place,  full  of  tapestry 
and  pictures,  but  though  it  looks  old,  really  a  modern 
castle,  with  the  ruins  of  the  truly  ancient  castle  on 
the  river-bank  hard  by.'' 

In  November  I  went  north  again  to  stay 
for  the  first  time  at  Bretton  near  Wakefield, 
a  great  house  in  the  Black  Country,  built  by 
the  famous  "  Madam  Beaumont,"  who  followed 
the  example  of  her  ancestors  in  making  an 
enormous  fortune  by  her  skilful  management 
of  her  lead-mines.  It  is  recorded  that  when 
Mr.  Pitt  was  dining  with  her,  and  all  her 
magnificent  plate  was  set  out,  she  exclaimed, 
with  pardonable  pride,  ''That  is  all  the  lead- 
mines,''  when  he  replied,  Oh,  really,  I  thought 
it  was  silver,"  and  would  talk  on,  to  her  great 
annoyance,  and  never  allow  her  a  moment  to 
explain.  I  had  made  friends  with  her  grand- 
son, Wentworth  Beaumont,  at  Ford,  when  he 
was  there  with  his  wife  Lady  Margaret,  whom 
I  have  always  regarded  as  the  most  thoroughly 
pleasant  specimen  in  existence  of  a  really  fine 
lady.  Her  powers  of  conversation  were  bound- 
less, her  gift  of  repartee  unequalled,  and  her 
memory  most  extraordinary.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Lady  Clanricarde,  celebrated  for 
her  conversational  talents,  and  whom  I  re- 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


65 


member  Lady  Carnarvon  describing  as  ''the 
most  agreeable  woman  in  England,  because 
she  was  not  only  massive,  but  lively."  Lady 
Margaret  was  like  a  little  queen  amongst  her 
guests,  entertaining  with  the  simplicity  of  real 
kindness  and  thoughtfulness  for  others,  whilst 
her  manner  was  equally  agreeable  to  all,  and 
she  never  usurped  attention,  but  rather  exerted 
herself  to  draw  others  out  and  to  show  the 
best  side  of  them.  She  could  be  alarming  as 
an  enemy,  but  she  was  a  most  faithful  friend, 
and  would  exert  herself  to  take  definite  trouble 
for  her  friends,  never  deserting  them  unless 
they  were  proved  to  be  really  unworthy.  She 
was  not  exactly  pretty,  but  her  animation  was 
more  charming  than  mere  beauty.  Dress  with 
her  was  not  a  mere  adjunct,  but  was  made  as 
much  a  thing  of  poetic  beauty  as  a  landscape 
or  a  flower.  She  was  devoted  to  her  husband, 
but  theoretically  she  disapproved  of  love  in  a 
general  way.  Still  she  was  only  worldly  in 
principle  and  not  in  practice,  and  she  was 
ever  a  devoted  mother  to  her  children,  seeking 
their  real  happiness  rather  than  their  advance- 
ment before  the  world.  ^    I  have  often  been 

^  Lady  Margaret  Beaumont,  whom  I  afterwards  knew  very  intimately, 
and  learnt  to  regard  with  ever-increasing  esteem  and  affection,  died, 
to  my  great  sorrow,  March  31,  1888. 

VOL.  IV.  E 


66 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1872 


at  Bretton  since  my  first  visit  there,  and  always 
enjoyed  it  fi^om  the  constant  animation  which 
the  hostess  shed  around  her  ;  the  excessive 
comfort  of  the  house  and  of  the  thoroughly 
well-regulated  household  ;  the  plenty  of  time 
for  work  and  writing,  and  yet  the  constant 
variety  afforded  by  the  guests  coming  and  going  : 
while  with  the  children  of  the  house  I  was 
very  intimate,  and  with  the  youngest,  Hubert, 
long  on  terms  of  almost  elder-brotherly  affec- 
tion. Lady  Francis  Gordon  was  generally  at 
Bretton  when  I  have  been  there,  rather  an 
amusing  than  an  agreeable  person,  but  an  im- 
mense talker.  One  of  her  first  remarks  to 
me  was  characteristic — I  am  quite  past  the 
age  of  blushing :  when  I  want  to  do  any- 
thing of  that  kind,  I  what  they  call  flush  now." 
I  have  frequently  seen  Colonel  Crealock^  at 
Bretton,  who  drew  animals  so  splendidly.  He 
told  me  once — 

Old  Lady  Selby  of  the  Mote  at  Ightham  had  been 
out  to  some  grand  party  in  all  her  diamonds  and 
jewels.  She  slept  in  a  room  which  still  remains  the 
same,  hung  all  round  with  tapestry  representing  events 
in  the  life  of  Julius  Caesar.  Through  this  room  was 
the  dressing-room,  in  which  she  kept  her  jewels  and 

^  Afterwards  Lieutenant-General  Henry  Hope  Crealock.  He  died 
May  1891. 


1 872] 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


67 


valuables.  On  the  night  of  her  return  from  the  party, 
as  she  was  undressing  and  taking  off  her  jewels,  she 
looked  up  at  the  figure  of  Julius  Caesar  in  the  tapestry, 
and  thought  she  saw  something  peculiar  in  one  of  his 
eyes.  She  looked  again,  and  felt  sure  the  eye  moved. 
She  quietly  proceeded,  however,  to  take  off  her  jewels 
and  put  them  away.  Having  done  that,  she  locked  the 
jewel-case,  left  it  in  the  dressing-room,  and  went  to  bed. 

*^She  had  not  been  in  bed  long  when  a  man  ap- 
peared in  the  room  with  a  candle  and  a  knife.  Coming 
up  to  the  bed,  he  passed  the  light  again  and  again 
close  before  her  eyes.  She  bore  it  without  flinching 
in  the  least,  only  appeared  to  become  restless  and 
turned  over  in  her  sleep.  Then  he  proceeded  to  the 
dressing-room  and  became  occupied  over  the  jewels. 
As  soon  as  she  was  aware  that  he  was  entirely  en- 
grossed, she  darted  out  of  bed,  banged  to  the  door  of 
the  dressing-room,  locked  it  on  the  outside,  and  rang 
violently  for  assistance.  When  help  came,  and  the 
door  was  opened,  they  found  the  man  strangled  from 
trying  to  get  through  the  iron  bars  of  the  window. 

^^The  portrait  of  old  Lady  Selby  still  remains  at 
the  Mote."  ^ 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Bretton  Parkj  Nov.  21,  1872. — To-day  we  went — 
Lady  Francis  Gordon,  Mrs.  Lowther,  Mr.  Doyle,  and 
I — to  luncheon  at  Walton,  an  extraordinary  house  in 
the  middle  of  a  lake,  which  belonged  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  Mr.  Waterton,  the  great  ornithologist.  It  is 
approached  by  a  long  drawbridge  and  is  most  curious. 
^  The  Mote  has  since  been  sold  and  its  contents  dispersed. 


68  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1B72 

A  Mr.  Hailstone  lives  there  now,  a  strange  man,  who 
spends  his  large  fortune  on  antiquities,  and  has  a  wife 
who  writes  on  lace,  and  wonderful  collections. ^  Their 
son  has  never  eaten  anything  but  buttered  toast,  cheese, 
and  port-wine  (has  never  tasted  meat,  vegetables,  or 
fruit),  but  is  eight  years  old  and  very  flourishing. 

*'Lord  and  Lady  Salisbury  are  here.  The  latter 
can  only  be  described  by  the  word  'jocund,*  except 
when  she  does  not  wish  to  make  acquaintance  or 
desires  to  snub  people,  when  she  becomes  hopelessly 
impenetrable.  There  is  a  party  of  fourteen,  all  new 
to  me,  but  I  get  on  very  well.  They  look  upon  me 
as  an  aboriginal  from  another  hemisphere,  and  indeed 
they  are  that  to  me ;  but  it  is  too  new  a  set  to  feel 
the  least  shy  in.  There  is  great  satisfaction  in  being 
only  a  background  figure,  and  Lady  Margaret  is  quite 
charming,  the  house  handsome,  and  the  park  pretty. 
We  all  went  to  church  this  morning  in  a  sort  of  family 
drawing-room  in  the  grounds,  the  vulgar  herd  screened 
off  by  red  curtains,  only  the  clergyman  in  his  pulpit 
visible  above  the  screen/' 

I  made  a  very  interesting  excursion  with 
Lady  Margaret  and  some  of  her  guests  to 
Haworth,  the  wild  weird  home  of  the  Brontes 
on  the  Yorkshire  fells,  where  the  steep  street 
with  the  stones  placed  edgeways,  up  which  the 
horses  scramble  like  cats,  leads  to  the  wind- 

^  Mr.  Hailstone  of  Walton  Hall  died  1890,  his  wife  some  years 
earlier.  He  bequeathed  his  topographical  collections  to  the  Chapter  at 
York,  where  they  are  preserved  as  the  "  Hailstone  Yorkshire  Library." 


1872]  IN    MY   SOLITARY   LIFE  69 

Stricken  churchyard,  with  its  vast  pavement  of 
tombstones  set  close  together.  On  one  side 
of  this  is  the  dismal  grey  stone  house  where 
the  three  unhappy  sisters  lived,  worked,  and 
suffered,  with  the  window  at  the  side  through 
which  Patrick  Bronte  used  to  climb  at  night. 
Not  a  tree  is  to  be  seen  in  the  neighbourhood 
except  the  blackened  lilac  before  the  Rectory 
door.  Nature  is  her  dreariest  self,  and  offers 
no  ameliorations.  The  family  were  buried 
beneath  their  pew  in  the  church,^  so  that 
Charlotte,  the  last  survivor,  sat  in  church  over 
the  graves  of  her  brothers  and  sisters.  The 
people  seemed  half  savage,  most  of  all  the 
Rector,  who  violently  hurled  Lady  Margaret 
and  Lady  Catherine  Weyland  from  his  door 
when  they  asked  to  see  the  house,  being  bored, 
I  suppose,  by  the  pertinacity  of  visitors. 

The  Brontes  were  really  Pronty — Irish — but 
when  old  Mr.  Bronte  went  to  college,  he  did 
the  wise  thing  of  changing  his  name,  and  the 
family  kept  to  it. 

I  went  for  two  days  from  Bretton  to  Lord 
Houghton  at  Fryston,  which  has  since  been 
burnt,  but  which  was  so  filled  with  books 
of  every  kind  that  the  whole  house  was  a 


^  This  church,  the  most  interesting  memorial  of  the  Bronte  life  at 
Haworth,  was  wantonly  destroyed  in  1880-81. 


70  THE    STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  [1872 

library,  each  bookcase  being  filled  with  a  diffe- 
rent subject — the  French  Revolution,  Demon- 
ology  and  Witchcraft,  &c.,  &c.  Lady  Houghton 
was  living  then,  a  most  gentle,  kind  woman,  a 
sister  of  Lord  Crewe.  From  Lord  Houghton 
I  received  constant  kindness  and  protection 
from  my  first  entering  upon  a  literary  life, 
and,  in  spite  of  his  excessive  vanity,  I  was 
always  sincerely  attached  to  him.  Butterfly 
to  the  hasty  eye,  he  was  firm  in  his  friendships, 
firmest  of  all  in  his  fearless  championship  of 
the  weak,  the  strugglers,  the  undeservedly 
oppressed."  As  Johnson  says  of  Garth — ''he 
communicated  himself  through  a  very  wide 
extent  of  acquaintance."  His  conversation 
was  always  interesting,  but  I  have  preserved 
scarcely  any  notes  of  my  visit  to  Fryston,  and 
chiefly  remember  his  mentioning  that  Sydney 
Smith  had  said  to  him,  what  I  have  so  often 
thought,  It  is  one  of  the  great  riddles  of  life 
to  me  why  good  people  should  always  be  so 
dreadfully  stupid."  He  also  spoke  of  the  many 
proverbs  which  discouraged  exertion  in  doing 
good,"  from  the  Persian  Do  no  good,  and  no 
harm  will  come  of  it,"  to  the  French — 

Pour  faire  dii  bien 
Ne  faites  rien." 

Talking  of  the   Baroness   Burdett  Coutts, 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


71 


Lord  Houghton  said,  Miss  Coutts  likes  me 
because  I  never  proposed  to  her.  Almost  all 
the  young  men  of  good  family  did  :  those  who 
did  their  duty  by  their  family  always  did.  Mrs. 
Browne  (Miss  Coutts'  companion)  used  to  see 
it  coming,  and  took  herself  out  of  the  way  for 
ten  minutes,  but  she  only  went  into  the  next 
•  room  and  left  the  door  open,  and  then  the 
proposal  took  place,  and  immediately  it  was 
done  Miss  Coutts  coughed,  and  Mrs.  Browne 
came  in  again." 

Journal. 

Dec.  lO,  1872. — Went  to  visit  the  Ralph  Buttons 
at  Timsbury  near  Romsey.  The  house  is  in  a  flat,  and 
sees  nothing  but  chpped  laurel  hedges.  Mr.  Button  is 
a  sporting  poHtician  :  Mrs.  Button  a  poHtician  too,  but 
on  the  other  side.  Both  are  full  of  pleasant  conver- 
sation, and  most  kind.  Regarding  English  country- 
houses,  however,  it  is  as  Carlyle  truly  says,  '  Life  may 
be  as  well  spent  there  as  elsewhere  by  the  owners 
of  them,  who  have  occupations  to  attend  to.  For 
visitors,  when  large  numbers  are  brought  together, 
some  practice  is  required  if  they  are  to  enjoy  the 
elaborate  idleness.' 

^^We  drove  to  visit  Mr.  Cowper  Temple  at  Broad- 
lands — a  pleasant  liveable  house  with  beautiful  flowers 
and  pictures,  the  most  remarkable  of  the  latter  being 
Guercino's  '  Hagar  and  the  Angel ' — an  angel  which 
poises  and  floats,  and  Sir  J.  Reynolds'  infant  Academy ' 


72 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1872 


and  ^  Babes  in  the  Wood.'  In  Mr.  Cowper  Temple's 
room  upstairs  is  Edward  Clifford's  family  group  of  the 
'  Maimed  and  Halt '  being  called  in  to  the  feast,  the 
figures  being  those  of  the  Cowper-Temples,  Augustus 
Tollemaches,  Lord  Roden,  Lady  Palmerston,  and 
Clifford's  favourite  drummer.  They  are  wonderful 
likenesses,  but  it  is  a  strange  picture,  with  our  Saviour 
looking  in  at  the  window." 

Dec,  13. — 1  arrived  at  Hatfield  in  the  dark.  A 
number  of  carriages  from  the  house  met  the  guests 
at  the  station.  As  I  emerged  from  it,  a  little  groom 
touched  his  hat  and  said,  '  Please,  sir,  are  you  the 
Lord  Chancellor  ?  '  I  thought  I  must  have  grown  in 
dignity  of  aspect.  The  Lord  Chancellor  was  expected, 
and  came  later  in  the  evening. 

I  found  Lord  and  Lady  Salisbury  in  the  library, 
lined  with  Burleigh  books  and  MSS.  Mr.  Richmond  the 
artist  was  with  them.  He  has  the  most  charming  voice, 
which,  quite  independently  of  his  conversation,  would 
make  him  agreeable.  He  talked  of  the  enormous 
prices  obtained  for  statues  and  pictures  at  the  present 
time,  while  Michelangelo  onty  got  £go  and  a  block  of 
marble  for  the  great  David  at  Florence,  and  Titian 
the  same  for  his  Assumption  at  Venice.  He  spoke 
of  the  amount  of  chicanery  which  existed  amongst 
artists  even  then — how  the  monks,  and  the  nuns  too, 
would  supply  them  with  good  ultra-marine  for  their 
frescoes,  and  how  they  would  sell  the  ultra-marine 
and  use  smalt.  He  described  how  Gainsborough  never 
could  sell  anything  but  portraits :  people  came  to  him 
for  those,  but  would  not  buy  his  other  pictures,  and 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


73 


his  house  was  full  of  them  when  he  died.  Gainsborough 
gave  two  pictures  to  the  carrier  who  brought  his  other 
pictures  from  Clifton  to  London :  the  carrier  would 
take  no  fare,  so  he  painted  his  waggon  and  horses 
and  another  picture  and  gave  them  to  him :  these  two 
pictures  have  been  sold  lately  for  18,000. 

Besides  the  Lord  Chancellor  Selborne  with  his 
two  pleasant  unaffected  daughters,  Miss  Alderson 
was  here  the  first  day,  and  Sir  Henry  and  Lady  Maine. 
With  the  last  I  rambled  in  search  of  adventures  in 
the  evening,  and  we  walked  in  the  long  gallery,  which 
is  splendid,  with  a  gilt  ceiling,  only  it  is  incongruous  to 
see  the  old  panelled  wall  brilliantly  lighted  with  gas. 

Lord  Salisbury  is  delightful,  so  perfectly  easy 
and  unaffected :  it  would  be  well  if  little  great  men 
would  take  pattern  by  him.  Lady  Salisbury  is  equally 
unassuming,  sound  sense  ever  dropping  from  her  lips 
as  unconsciously  as  Lady  Margaret  Beaumont's  bon- 
mots." 

Dec,  14. — Lady  Salisbury  showed  us  the  house. 
In  the  drawing-room,  over  the  chimney-piece,  is  a  huge 
statue  of  James  L  of  bronze.  It  is  not  fixed,  but 
supported  by  its  own  weight.  A  ball  was  once  given 
in  that  room.  In  the  midst  of  the  dancing  some  one 
observed  that  the  bronze  statue  was  slowly  nodding 
its  head,  and  gave  the  alarm.  The  stampede  was 
frightful.    All  the  guests  fled  down  the  long  gallery. 

In  the  same  room  is  a  glorious  portrait  of  Lord 
Salisbury's  grandmother  by  Reynolds.  It  was  this 
Lady  Salisbury  who  was  burnt  to  death  in  her  old 
age.    She  came  in  from  riding,  and  used  to  make  her 


74 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


maid  change  her  habit  and  dress  her  for  dinner  at  once, 
as  less  fatiguing.    Then  she  rested  for  two  or  three 
hours   with  hghted  candles  near  her,  and  read  or 
nodded  in  her  chair.    One  evening,  from  the  opposite 
wing  of  the  house,  the  late  Lord  Salisbury  saw  the 
windows  of  the  rooms  near  hers  blazing  with  light,  and 
gave  the  alarm,  but  before  anybody  could  reach  his 
mother's  rooms  they  were  entirely  burnt — so  entirely, 
that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  identify  her  ashes 
for  burial  but  for  a  ruby  which  the  present  Lady  Salis- 
bury wears  in  a  ring.    A  little  heap  of  diamonds  was 
found  in  one  place,  but  that  proved  nothing,  as  all 
her  jewels  were  burned  with  her,  but  the  ruby  her 
maid  identified  as  having  put  on  her  finger  when  she 
dressed  her,  and  the  ashes  of  that  particular  spot  were 
all  gathered  up  and  buried  in  a  small  urn.    Her  two 
favourite  dogs  were  burnt  with  her,  and  they  are  pro- 
bably buried  with  her.^    It  was  this  Lady  Salisbury  who 
was  inadvertently  thrown  down  by  a  couple  waltzing 
violently  down  the  long  gallery,  when  Lord  Lytton, 
who  was  present,  irreverently  exclaimed  : 

'  At  Hatfield  House  Conservatives 
Become  quite  harum-scarum, 
For  Radical  could  do  no  more 
Than  overturn  Old  Sarum.'  ^ 

In  '  Oliver  Twist,'  Bill  Sykes  is  described  as  having 
seen  the  fire  at  Hatfield  as  he  was  escaping  from 
London. 

In  the  dining-room  there  is  a  portrait  by  Wilkie  of 

^  Lady  Salisbury's  description. 
-  Told  nie  by  Lord  Houghton. 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


75 


the  Duke  of  Wellington,  painted  when  he  was  here 
after  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  There  is  also  at  Hatfield 
a  beautiful  picture  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  at  fifteen.^ 
This,  however,  is  not  the  authentic  portrait.  There  is 
another,  a  replica  of  that  at  Hardwicke,  taken  in  a 


HATFIELD. 

widow's  dress  shortly  before  her  execution,  which  is 
one  of  the  three  portraits  certainly  painted  from  life. 
It  was  sent  by  the  Queen  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and 

^  N'ote  added  1890. — Authorities  now  decide  that  this  picture  does 
not  represent  Mary  at  all,  and  it  is  certainly  not,  as  formerly  stated, 
by  Zucchero,  for  Zucchero,  who  was  never  in  England  till  the  Queen 
was  in  captivity,  never  painted  her. 


76 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1872 


intercepted  by  Lord  Burleigh.  One  of  the  other  two 
portraits  belonged  to  Louis  Philippe.  As  Sir  Henry 
Bulwer  was  waiting  for  an  audience  of  the  king, 
another  gentleman  was  in  the  room  with  him.  The 
portrait  of  Queen  Mary  hung  on  the  wall.  The 
stranger  looked  at  it,  walked  backwards  and  forwards 
to  it,  and  examined  it  again  and  again.  At  last  he 
walked  up  to  Sir  Henry  Bulwer  and  said,  'Can  you 
tell  me,  sir,  whom  that  portrait  represents? — 'Yes,  I 
can,*  said  Sir  Henry ;  '  but  will  you  tell  me  why  you 
ask  ?  ' — '  Because  it  is  the  lowest  type  of  criminal  face 
which  is  known  to  us/  The  stranger  was  Fouche 
the  famous  detective. 

''  In  Lady  Salisbury's  own  room  is  a  picture  of  Miss 
Pine,  Lord  Salisbury's  other  grandmother,  by  Sir 
Joshua;  also  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Westmoreland 
and  their  child,  by  Vandyke;  also  a  curious  picture  of 
a  lady. 

'' '  She  looks  dull  but  good,'  said  Miss  Palmer. 

'' '  She  looks  clever  but  bad,'  said  L 

'' '  She  was  desperately  wicked,'  said  Lady  Salis- 
bury, '  and  therefore  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  say  that 
she  was  very  religious.  She  endowed  almshouses — 
'Lady  Anne's  Almshouses,' — they  still  exist,  and  she 
sent  her  son  to  Westminster  with  especial  orders  that 
he  should  be  severely  flogged,  when  he  was  seventeen, 
and  so  soured  his  temper  for  life  and  sent  him  to  the 
bad  entirely ;  and  none  but  '  a  thoroughly  highly- 
principled  woman '  could  do  such  a  villainous  action  as 
that.  The  son  lived  afterwards  at  Quixwold,  and  led 
the  most  abominably  wicked  life  there,  and  died  a 
death  as  horrible  as  his  life.    He  sold  everything  he 


i872j 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


77 


could  lay  hands  on,  jewels  and  everything,  all  the  old 
family  plate  except  one  very  ugly  old  flat  candlestick 
and  six  old  sconces,  which  were  painted  over  mahogany 
colour,  and  so  were  not  known  to  be  silver.  His  is 
the  phantom  coach  which  arrives  and  drives  up  the 
staircase  and  then  disappears.  Lord  Salisbury  heard 
it  the  other  night  when  he  was  in  his  dressing-room, 
and  dressed  again,  thinking  it  was  visitors,  and  went 
down,  but  it  was  no  one.' 

There  is  a  picture  of  Elizabeth  by  Zucchero  in 
the  famous  dress,  all  eyes  and  ears,  to  typify  her 
omniscience,  and  with  the  serpent  of  wisdom  on  her 
arm  :  she  loved  allegorical  dress.  Her  hat  is  here — an 
open-work  straw  hat — and  in  the  recess  of  the  gallery 
her  cradle,  with  A.  R.  for  Anne  Boleyn.  Elizabeth 
hated  Hatfield.  She  was  here  in  her  childhood  and  all 
through  Mary's  reign,  and  she  constantly  wrote  from 
hence  complaints  to  her  father,  to  Mary,  and  to  the 
Ministers,  and  they  told  her  she  must  bear  it ;  but  she 
hated  it,  and  after  she  became  queen  she  never  saw 
Hatfield  again.  The  relics  of  her  remain  because 
James  I.  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  exchange  Hatfield 
for  Theobalds,  on  account  of  the  hunting  there,  that  he 
did  not  stop  to  take  anything  away. 

In  the  afternoon  we  had  games,  charades — Pil- 
grim, Pirate,  Scullion,  and  stories." 

Dec.  15. — Breakfast  at  a  number  of  little  round 
tables.  I  was  at  one  with  Miss  Palmer,  the  Attorney- 
General,  and  his  daughter  Miss  Coleridge.  The 
Attorney-General  told  a  story  of  a  Mr.  Kerslake, 
who  was  6  feet  8  inches  in  height.    A  little  boy  in  the 


78  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1872 

Strand,  looking  up  at  him,  said,  ^  I  say,  Maister,  if 
you  was  to  fall  down,  you'd  be  half  way  t'ome.' 

My  cough  prevented  my  going  out,  but  we  had 
Sunday-afternoon  service  in  the  chapel,  with  beauti- 
ful singing.  In  the  evening  Lady  Salisbury  asked 
me  to  tell  stories  to  all  the  party,  and  it  was  sufficiently 
alarming  when  I  saw  the  Lord  Chancellor  in  the 
first  row,  with  the  Attorney-General  on  one  side  of 
him  and  Lord  Cairns  on  the  other.  In  repeating  a 
story,  however,  I  always  think  of  a  bit  of  advice  Mr. 
Jowett  gave  me  long  ago — 'Try  to  say  everything 
as  well  as  you  can  say  it.'  The  Attorney-General 
afterwards  told  us — 

There  is  at  Clifton  a  Mr.  Harrison,  who  is  the 
second  medical  authority  there,  a  man  of  undoubted 
probity  and  reputation.    He  told  me  this. 

'^At  Clifton  lived  a  Mrs.  Fry  with  her  brother-in- 
law  and  his  two  daughters,  Elizabeth  and  Hephzibah. 
These  were  persons  who,  like  many  Bristol  people, 
had  large  property  in  the  West  Indies — the  Miles's, 
for  instance,  made  their  fortunes  there.  The  elder 
daughter,  Elizabeth,  had  been  born  in  the  West 
Indies,  and  when  she  fell  into  bad  health,  her  father 
took  the  opportunity  of  taking  her  back  to  benefit 
by  her  native  air,  when  he  went  to  look  after  his 
West  Indian  property,  leaving  his  younger  daughter, 
Hephzibah,  with  Mrs  Fry. 

They  had  not  been  gone  long  when  Hephzibah 
took  a  chill,  and  in  a  very  few  days  she  died.  Mr. 
Harrison  attended  her.  Some  days  after  he  called 
as  a  friend  upon  Mrs.  Fry,  when  she  said,  '  I  want 
to  tell  you  something  which  has  happened  to  me : 


1872 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


79 


I  have  seen  Elizabeth/ — ^Impossible/  said  Mr.  Har- 
rison. '  No,'  she  said,  '  it  was  so.  I  was  sitting 
reading  the  Promise  "  '  (so  I  believe  '  Friends  '  always 
call  the  Bible),  ^when  I  fell  into  a  state  which  was 
neither  sleeping  nor  waking,  and  in  that  state — I  was 
not  asleep — I  saw  EHzabeth  standing  by  me.  I  spoke 
to  her,  and,  forgetting  what  had  happened  in  my  sur- 
prise, I  told  her  to  call  her  sister.  But  she  said  to 
me  that  she  had  seen  her  sister  already,  and  that  she 
was  in  a  box,  and  had  a  great  deal  of  sewing  about 
her  chest.  She  especially  used  the  word  sewing :  " 
then  she  vanished  away,  and  the  place  in  the  Promise 
where  I  had  left  off  was  changed :  some  one  had 
turned  it  over.'    Mr.  Harrison  noted  all  this. 

Some  time  after  came  a  letter  from  the  father  to 
Mrs.  Fry,  written  before  he  had  heard  of  Hephzibah's 
death.  After  speaking  of  other  matters  he  said,  ^  I 
must  now  tell  you  of  a  very  curious  circumstance 
which  has  occurred,  and  which  is  much  on  my  mind. 
The  other  day  Elizabeth,  who  had  been  much  better, 
and  who  is  now  nearly  well,  surprised  us  by  falling 
into  a  stupor,  and  when  she  came  to  herself  she 
would  insist  upon  it  that  she  had  been  to  Chfton, 
and  that  she  had  seen  you  and  Hephzibah,  and  that 
Hephzibah  was  in  a  long  box,  with  a  great  deal  of 
sewing  upon  her  chest :  and  she  says  so  still/  The 
dates  were  precisely  the  same. 

Hephzibah's  death  was  so  sudden  that  there  was 
a  post-mortem  examination,  though  it  was  not  con- 
sidered necessary  to  distress  Mrs.  Fry  by  telling  her 
of  it.  On  this  occasion  Mr.  Harrison  was  unable  to 
be  present.    He  went  afterwards  to  the  student  of 


8o 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1872 


the  hospital  who  was  there,  and  who  remembered 
all  about  it,  and  he  said — what  Mr.  Harrison  had  not 
previously  known — that  after  the  examination  the 
body  was  sewn  up,  with  a  great  deal  of  sewing  upon 
the  chest." 

Dec.  16. — The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and 
Mrs.  Tait  arrived  before  afternoon-tea,  at  which  there 
was  much  lively  conversation.  Apropos  of  Radicalism 
and  the  conversation  of  Bishops,  Lord  Salisbury  men- 
tioned Sydney  Smithes  saying  that  he  would  'rather 
fall  a  victim  to  a  democratic  mob  than  be  sweetly  and 
blandly  absorbed  by  a  bishop.' 

''In  speaking  of  Jenny 'Lind,  Mr.  Richmond  said 
that  she  had  'none  of  the  warm  ruddy  glow  of  the 
sunny  South  in  her  character,  it  was  rather  the  soft 
calm  beauty  of  Swedish  moonlight.'  He  spoke  of 
the  faces  he  had  drawn — of  the  interest  of  the  ugly 
faces,  if  the  lines  had  character;  of  the  difficulty  of 
translating  a  face  like  a  moon  or  a  footstool;  that 
still  such  faces  were  quite  the  exception,  and  that 
he  believed  the  reason  why  he  succeeded  better  than 
some  others  of  his  confraternity  was  that  he  was 
better  able  to  realise  to  himself  the  good  in  the  char- 
acter of  his  subjects." 

Dec.  17. — Mr.  Richmond  was  at  the  same  little 
table  at  breakfast.  He  talked  of  great  writers  and 
talkers,  how  their  art  was  not  the  creation  of  some- 
thing new,  but  the  telling  of  old  things  well  in  a 
new  dress — the  bringing  up  the  thoughts  long  bed- 
ridden in  the  chambers  of  their  own  brain. 


1872]  IN    MY   SOLITARY    LIFE  8  I 

He  talked  of  Carlyle — of  how  his  pecuHarities 
began  in  affectation,  but  that  now  he  was  simply 
lost  in  the  mazes  of  his  own  vocabulary.  One  night, 
he  said,  he  met  a  man  at  Albert  Gate  at  12  P.M.,  who 
asked  for  a  light  for  his  cigar.  He  did  not  see  who 
it  was  till,  as  he  was  turning  away,  he  recognised 
Carlyle,  who  gave  a  laugh  which  could  be  heard  all 
down  Piccadilly  as  he  exclaimed,  ^  I  thought  it  was 
just  any  son  of  Adam,  and  I  find  a  friend.'  It  was 
soon  after  the  Pope's  return  to  Rome,  and  Mr. 
Richmond  spoke  of  him.  *The  poor  old  Pope,'  said 
Carlyle,  ^  the  po-o-r  old  Pope  !  He  has  a  big  mouth  ! 
I  do  not  like  your  button-holes  of  mouths,  like  the 
Greek  statues  you  are  all  so  fond  of.' 

Our  third  at  the  breakfast-table  was  a  Mr.  Jeffreys. 
Mr.  Richmond  said  afterwards  that  he  was  a  con- 
chologist,  which  he  regarded  as  the  very  tail  of 
science — the  topmost  twig  of  the  tree  looking  up  at 
the  sky." 

Dec,  ig. — Yesterday  I  drew  the  gallery  and  chapel. 
There  is  something  mediaeval  in  the  band  playing 
all  dinner-time,  yet  without  the  sound  being  over- 
whelming, from  the  great  size  of  the  room  ;  in  the 
way  the  host  and  hostess  sit  in  the  middle  like  royalty, 
and  in  the  little  lovely  baskets  of  hot-house  flowers 
given  to  each  lady  as  she  goes  down  the  staircase 
to  dinner." 

Dec.  20. — The  last  collection  of  guests  have  in- 
cluded the  Duke  of  Wellington,  the  Cowleys,  Lord 
and  Lady  Stanhope,  and  M.  and  Madame  de  Lavalette 

VOL.  IV.  F 


82  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1872 

— all  full  of  interest.  Certainly  Hatfield  is  magnificent 
and  grandly  kept  up.  I  had  much  talk  with  Mrs. 
Lowe/  who  delights  in  tirades  against  Christianity. 
She  said  how  absurd  it  was  to  expect  belief  in  the 
Bible,  when  no  one  could  agree  upon  so  recent  a 
subject  as  Lord  Byron  :  that  half  the  Bible  was  con- 
trary to  all  reason :  that  it  was  monstrous  to  suppose 
that  the  Deity  could  enjoin  a  murder  Hke  that  of 
Isaac,  &c." 

Dec,  27,  East  Sheen. — Mrs.  Stuart  Wortley  came 
to  luncheon.  She  remarked  how  that  which  was 
most  striking  in  Italy  was  not  the  effect  of  light,  but 
of  shadow.  Into  the  shadows  of  England  you  could 
not  penetrate,  but  the  shadows  of  Italy  were  trans- 
parent; the  more  you  looked  into  their  cavernous 
depths,  the  more  you  saw  there,  discovering  marvels 
of  beauty  which  existed  there  in  repose. 

She  told  us  that  the  secret  of  '  the  Haunted  House 
in  Berkeley  Square '  is  that  it  belonged  to  a  Mr. 
Du  Pre  of  Wilton  Park.  He  shut  up  his  lunatic 
brother  there  in  a  cage  in  one  of  the  attics,  and  the 
poor  captive  was  so  violent  that  he  could  only  be 
fed  through  a  hole.  His  groans  and  cries  could  be 
distinctly  heard  in  the  neighbouring  houses.  The 
house  is  now  to  be  let  for  ^loo  the  first  year,  £200 
the  second,  ;^300  the  third,  but  if  the  tenant  leaves 
within  that  time,  he  is  to  forfeit  ^lOOO.  The  house 
will  be  furnished  in  any  style  or  taste  the  tenant 
chooses." 

^  Afterwards  Lady  Shcrbrooke, 


1872]  IN    MY    SOLITARY    LIFE  83 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Holmhurst^  Jan.  lO,  1873. — I  have  had  a  pleasant 
visit  at  Battle  Abbey.  The  Duchess  (of  Cleveland) 
received  me  very  kindly.  The  house  is  comfortable 
and  the  library  is  first-rate,  and  there  is  always  a 
pleasure  in  a  house  which  has  ruins,  cloisters,  haunted 
yew  walks — history,  in  fact — in  its  garden.  The  Duke, 
who  is  one  of  the  few  living  of  my  father's  old  friends, 
was  very  cordial ;  and  Lord  and  Lady  Stanhope,  whom 
I  am  devoted  to,  arrived  with  me.  The  rest  of  the 
guests  were  Harry  Stanhope,  a  clergyman.  Colonel 
and  Mrs.  Heygarth,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Byng,  Mr. 
Newton  the  Lycian  archaeologist,  Mr.  Blanche  the 
Somerset  Herald,  and  Mr.  Campbell  of  Islay — a  party 
which  had  plenty  of  good  materials.  We  drew,  acted, 
and  all  tried  to  make  ourselves  agreeable.  The 
Duchess  was  a  perfect  hostess,  amused  us  all  very 
much,  and  was  intensely  amused  herself." 

My  book  ''Wanderings  in  Spain,"  came  out 
in  the  autumn  of  1872,  and  met  with  a  more 
enthusiastic  reception  from  the  public  than 
anything  I  have  ever  written.  Three  editions 
were  called  for  in  six  weeks,  but  there  the 
sale  ended/  The  reviews  were  rapturously 
laudatory,  but  I  felt  at  the  time  how  little  re- 
liance was  to  be  placed  upon  their  judgment, 
though  for  the  moment  it  was  agreeable.  The 

^  This  was  so  for  a  long  time.  Then  in  about  ten  years  several 
more  editions  were  called  for  in  rapid  succession.  One  can  never 
anticipate  how  it  will  be  with  books. 


84 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


Times  declared  that  no  one  ought  to  go  to 
Spain  without  the  book;  the  AthencEum,  that 
only  in  one  instance  had  pleasanter  sketches 
fallen  under  its  notice ;  while  the  Spectator 
blew  the  loudest  trumpet  of  all  : — 

^Mn  this  least  commonplace,  and  yet  most  compre- 
hensive of  works  of  travel,  we  find  everything  we 
have  previously  learnt  of  that  comparatively  unworked 
mine  of  history,  art,  poetry,  and  nature,  Spain,  as  well 
as  a  great  deal  which  is  entirely  novel.  But  the  old  is 
placed  in  a  dazzling  light  of  fancy,  association,  and 
suggestion,  and  the  new  is  captivating.  The  skies  of 
Spain  shine,  the  wide-sweeping  breezes  blow,  the 
solemn  church  music  swells,  the  ancient  grandeur, 
gravity,  and  dignity  of  the  history  and  life  of  the 
country,  the  old  Moorish  magnificence,  the  splendid 
chivalry,  the  religious  enthusiasm,  the  stern  loyalty 
and  narrow  pride  of  the  races  of  Arragon  and  Castile, 
all  live  again  in  the  vivid  pages  of  this  book." 

The  unusual  success  which  was  attending  my 
''Walks  in  Rome,"  and  the  many  notes  which  I 
already  possessed  for  a  similar  work  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, made  me  now  devote  my  time  to 

Days  near  Rome,"  and  in  January  I  left  Eng- 
land to  make  Rome  a  centre  from  whence  to 
revive  my  recollection  of  the  towns  I  had  already 
visited  in  the  Campagna  and  its  surrounding 
mountains,  and  to  examine  and  sketch  those 
I  had  not  yet  seen.    Altogether,     Days  near 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


85 


Rome  "  is  the  one  of  my  books  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  which  I  had  the  greatest  enjoyment, 
and  from  which  I  have  had  least  disappoint- 
ment since  its  publication.^  I  was,  however, 
terribly  ill  soon  after  my  arrival  at  Rome,  and 
nearly  died  there. 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Paris ^  Jan,  19,  1873. — I  have  felt  most  dolorous 
on  the  journey,  and  often  repented  having  decided  to 
come  abroad  :  I  so  dread  seeing  Rome  again.  Still,  as 
last  year  I  added  ^252  to  my  income  by  small  writings 
exclusive  of  the  ^Memorials,'  I  must  look  upon  it  as  a 
profession,  and  of  course  as  such  it  is  very  pleasant. 
This  morning  I  am  cheered  by  George  Sheffield's  plea- 
sure at  seeing  me,  and  I  am  going  to  dine  with  the 
Comte  and  Comtesse  de  Clermont-Tonnerre.^' 

Florence y  Jan,  23. — All  descriptions  of  '  sensations  ' 
in  the  Mont  Cenis  tunnel  must  be  pure  imagination. 
It  is  exactly  like  any  other  tunnel.  I  came  all  the  way 
from  Paris  with  two  American  ladies,  one  of  them  very 
handsome,  but  the  sort  of  person  who  said, '  I  guess  I  am 
genteelly  well  satisfied '  when  she  had  finished  her  dinner, 
and  that  she  had  read  'Walks  in  Rome,'  which  'was  a 
very  elegant  book,  a  very  elegant  book  indeed.' " 

''81  Via  della  CrocCj  RomCy  Jan.  27.  —  I  left 
Florence  on  a  still,  mizzly  morning.  How  familiar  all 
the  dear  places  seemed  on  the  way,  and  yet  how 

^  1890. — This  was  so  for  many  years  :  then  the  sale  of  Days  near 
Rome"  suddenly  and  unaccountably  stopped. 


86 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1873 


changed  the  feeling  with  which  one  saw  them — Thrasy- 
mene,  Perugia,  Assisi,  Spoleto — all  so  much  to  us^  so 
woven  into  (^^r  lives,  and  I  was  thankful  for  the  twilight 
obscurity  before  the  steep  of  Fidenae  rose  beside  us, 
and  then  the  towers  of  the  beloved  city  crested  the 
hill,  the  hill  down  which  my  darling  drove  so  often  in 
her  little  carriage  to  the  Ponte  Salario  and  the  Ponte 


FIDENAE.  1 


Nomentano,  drinking  in  the  full  beauty  of  the  historic 
loveliness.  On  Saturday  I  removed  to  these  rooms 
in  the  house  of  Voight,  a  German  artist,  much  beloved 
by  the  Bunsens,  and  indeed  married  to  his  old  still- 
existing  Signora  from  their  house.  I  think  that  the 
rooms  will  answer  sufficiently,  though,  as  the  Voights 
have  never  let  rooms  before,  there  is  a  terrible  amount 


1  From     Days  near  Rome  " 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


87 


of  talking  over  everything  I  need.  The  whole  family, 
of  three  generations,  were  called  into  council  the  first 
time  I  desired  to  have  an  egg  for  breakfast,  and  then 
it  came  in  raw,  and  yesterday  the  scene  was  repeated. 
However,  ^ pa^ienza,^ 

On  Sunday  I  went  up  first  to  the  Pincio,  and  I  can- 
not say — indeed  no  one  could  understand — all  that  that 
walk  is  to  me,  where  day  after  day,  for  so  many  feeble 
winters,  we  helped  my  darling  along ;  whence  she  looked 
down  upon  the  windows  so  sacred  to  her  in  the  San 
Sebastianello ;  where  every  shrub  was  famiHar  and 
commented  upon,  as  not  even  those  in  the  garden  at 
Holmhurst  have  ever  been.  Nothing  has  been  more 
our  garden.  It  seemed  almost  sacrilege  to  see  the 
changes,  and  they  are  not  many.  In  the  afternoon 
I  went  again  with  my  old  friend  Stopford  Sackville. 

It  has  been  a  great  effort— a  gasp — coming  here, 
but  I  am  thankful  now  that  I  came.  There  is  some- 
thing in  the  simple  greetings  of  all  our  poor  friends — 
^  Lei  sta  solo  adesso — ahi  poverino  ! ' — far  more  to  me 
than  anything  else  could  be,  and  the  very  trees  and 
ruins  talk  to  me,  only  that  as  she  saw  her  Augustus's, 
so  I  see  my  Mother's  name  engraven  on  every  stone. 
In  some  ways  I  seem  every  day  to  make  fresh  ac- 
quaintance with  my  solitary  life. 

It  is  perfect  summer  here,  the  Villa  Doria  a  sheet 
of  flowers,  anemones  of  every  hue,  violets  almost  over. 
'  How  full  of  sources  of  comfort  has  God  made  this 
lovely  woe- world,'  as  Mrs.  Kemble  says." 

Feb.  I. — I  have  been  very  ill  for  the  last  three 
days  with  Roman  fever,  which  has  brought  on  a  violent 


88 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


return  of  my  cough.  It  all  came  from  going  out  for 
one  instant  upon  the  balcony  at  night  without  extra 
clothing :  in  that  instant  I  felt  the  seizure  like  a  stab, 
and  the  most  violent  shivering  fits  came  on  immediately. 
Perhaps  the  chill  of  these  rooms  has  something  to  do 
with  it.  I  feel  much  the  absence  of  the  sympathis- 
ing help  I  have  had  here  in  illness  before,  especially  of 
Lea's  good  food  and  attentions ;  and  now,  if  I  ask  even 
for  a  cup  of  tea,  the  commotion  is  enough  to  bring  the 
house  down.  ...  I  am  especially  sorry  to  be  shut 
up  at  this  time,  as  there  are  so  many  pleasant  people 
in  Rome,  not  least  the  really  charming  Prince  Arthur, 
to  whom  I  was  presented  the  other  day,  and  whom 
I  think  most  engaging,  and  hope — if  I  can  only  get 
better — to  see  more  of  next  week,  when  I  have  been 
asked,  and  have  promised,  to  go  with  him  to  several 
sights.  Amongst  his  suite  is  Sir  Howard  Elphinstone, 
a  capital  artist,  who  is  quite  a  friend  of  mine,  and  went 
out  drawing  with  me  before  I  was  taken  ill. 

The  old  interest  of  Rome  has  wonderfully  passed 
away,  not  only  to  me,  but  I  think  also  to  many  others. 
The  absence  of  pope,  cardinals,  and  monks ;  the  shut- 
ting up  of  the  convents ;  the  loss  of  the  ceremonies ; 
the  misery  caused  by  the  terrible  taxes  and  conscrip- 
tion ;  the  voluntary  exile  of  the  Borgheses  and  many 
other  noble  families ;  the  total  destruction  of  the  glorious 
Villa  Negroni  and  so  much  else  of  interest  and  beauty ; 
the  ugly  new  streets  in  imitation  of  Paris  and  New 
York,  all  grate  against  one's  former  Roman  associations. 
And  to  set  against  this  there  is  so  very  little — a  gayer 
Pincio,  a  live  wolf  on  the  Capitol,  a  mere  scrap  of 
excavation  in  the  Forum,  and  all  is  said. 


1873]  IN    MY    SOLITARY    LIFE  89 


Old  Beppino  (the  beggar  of  the  Trinita  steps) 
escaped  from  a  bad  accident  the  other  day  and  an- 
nounced it  thus  —  'Ho  mancato  p6co  d'andare  in 
Paradiso,  che  Dio  me  ne  guarda  ! ' 

^^11  TempiettOy  Feb.  4. — Since  I  last  wrote  I  have 
been  terribly  ill.  On  Friday  night  I  was  seized  with 
feverish  convulsions,  and  with  loss  of  speech  for  four 
hours.  The  first  night  I  was  too  ill  to  call  for  any 
help,  but  next  morning  kind  Dr.  Grigor  came,  and  I 
decided  to  forfeit  the  rent  of  my  other  rooms  and  move 
up  here  to  our  dear  old  apartment,  having  more  than 
ever  the  immoral  conviction  I  have  always  had,  that 
one  never  does  anything  economical  without  doing 
something  very  foolish  also.  These  dear  rooms  have 
all  their  old  homelike  charm.  I  sit  in  the  Mother^s 
chair  with  her  little  table  by  my  side,  and  Madame  da 
Monaca,  our  old  landlady,  is  perfectly  charmed  to 
have  me  back." 

Feb.  9. — I  have  still  some  sparks  of  life  in  me, 
which  really  two  days  ago  I  did  not  feel,  it  has  been 
such  a  suffering  illness  and  the  cough  has  quite  worn 
me  out.  I  am  sure,  in  thinking  of  dangerous  illness 
henceforward,  I  shall  always  remember  the  long  nights 
here,  nights  of  pain  and  fever,  tossing  restlessly  and 
longing  for  the  morning,  and  first  knowing  it  had 
dawned  by  the  tinkling  bells  of  the  goats  coming  to 
be  milked  under  the  windows,  followed  by  the  familiar 
cry  of — 

'  Acqua  Acetosa 
Buona  per  la  sposa.' 

^'CharHe  Dalison,  who  has  been  in  Rome,  has  been 


90  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1873 

most  kind,  and  the  Archbishop  of  Dubhn  and  Mrs. 
Trench,  Hving  just  underneath,  have  been  incessant  in 
their  attentions.  Endless  Httle  comforts  have  also  been 
supplied  to  me  by  the  constant  kindness  of  two  ladies 
who  live  together.  Miss  Freeman  Clarke,  an  American 
authoress,  who  has  visited  all  the  places  in  Italy 
connected  with  Dante,  and  drawn  and  described  them ; 
and  Miss  Foley,  a  most  charming  young  sculptress,  as 
clever  as  she  is  attractive."  ^ 

Feb.  16. — Last  week  I  felt  as  if  life  was  really 
passing  away — such  was  my  utter  exhaustion  and 
suffering.  .  .  .  After  a  most  kind  touching  note  about 
the  ^  Memorials,^  I  have  had  an  hour's  visit  from  Lord 
Chichester,  and  he  is  coming  again  often.  I  constantly 
see  Lady  Ashburton,  who  rains  her  benefits  upon  me. 
I  am  doing  all  I  can  to  be  able  to  go  out  with  the 
Prince  soon,  having  put  him  off  again  and  again  with 
a  greater  pang  each  time,  but  I  wish  I  could  feel  a 
Httle  less  dreadfully  weak. 

I  think  the  ^  Memorials '  will  soon  reach  a  sale  Hke 
that  of  the  Recit  d'une  Sceur,  Hatchard  is  pushing 
the  '  Alton  Sermons  '  under  its  shadow.  ^  Wanderings 
in  Spain'  also  sells  beyond  all  expectation." 

It  was  on  the  i8th  of  February  that  I  was 
first  able  to  have  one  of  my  lectures  for  Prince 
Arthur.  It  was  arranoed  for  the  Palace  of  the 
Caesars.  I  had  asked  him  if  Lady  Ashburton 
and  her  daughter  might  go  with  us,  and  to  this 

^  Miss  Margaret  Foley  died  Dec.  1877. 


1873]  IN    MY    SOLITARY    LIFE  9I 

he  had  consented.  Lady  Ashburton  insisted 
upon  coming  to  fetch  me,  but,  knowing  her  un- 


VIEW  FROM  THE  TEMPIETTO,  ROME. 


punctual  habits,  I  was  most  unwilHng  she  should 
do  so.  Nothing  else  would  serve  her,  how- 
ever, and  she  promised  again  and  again  to  be 


92 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1873 


punctual.  However,  the  time  came  and  she  did 
not  arrive.  Having  secured  no  other  carriage 
I  waited  minute  after  minute  in  an  agony,  and 
not  till  after  the  time  at  which  we  ought  to 
have  been  at  the  Palatine  did  Lady  Ashburton 
appear  on  the  Pincio.  When  we  reached  the 
Palatine,  the  Prince  and  all  his  suite  were 
still  in  the  road,  unable  to  enter  without  my 
order.  I  have  been  waiting  ten  minutes," 
he  said,  ''and  they  wouldn't  let  me  in."  It 
was  a  terrible  beginning.  However,  his  lively 
pleasure  and  active  interest  in  all  that  was 
to  be  seen  soon  made  me  at  home  with  him. 
If  anything  especial  attracted  his  notice,  he 
generally  asked,  Do  you  think  my  brother 
and  sister  (the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales) 
saw  this  ? " 

A  few  days  after,  I  had  another  lecture  for 
the  Prince  on  the  Coelian.  This  time  I  refused 
altogether  to  go  with  Lady  Ashburton,  and 
when  I  arrived  ten  minutes  before  the  time  at 
the  steps  of  S.  Gregorio,  found  that  she  had 
already  been  there  half-an-hour,  walking  up 
and  down  in  the  dew  !  This  time  the  Prince 
was  even  pleasanter  than  before.  Generally  he 
begged  that  his  name  might  not  be  mentioned, 
but  this  was  necessary  to  get  into  the  garden 
of  SS.  Giovanni  e  Paolo,  which  at  that  time 


1873]  IN    MY   SOLITARY   LIFE  93 

was  always  closed.  While  we  were  in  the 
church,  a  monk  came  up  to  me  and  said  that 
the  General  of  the  Passionists  was  coming  to 
pay  his  respects  to  the  Prince.  I  said,  Sir,  the 
General  of  the  Passionists  is  coming  to  have 
the  honour  of  being  presented  to  you."  The 
Prince  began  to  say  No,  no,  no,"  but  at 
that  moment  the  white  robes  of  the  abbot 
appeared  in  the  doorway,  followed  by  a  whole 
train  of  monks.  The  Prince  immediately  did 
the  right  thing,  receiving  them  and  speaking 
to  them  on  the  steps  of  the  tribune,  and  I 
have  often  thought  what  a  picture  the  scene 
would  have  made.  In  the  shadow  of  royalty, 
Lady  Ashburton  was  the  first  woman  allowed 
to  visit  the  Passionist  garden,  but  to  the 
Prince's  great  annoyance,  three  Americans 
(probably  not  knowing  who  it  was)  got  in 
too,  by  pretending  to  belong  to  our  party. 
They  followed  us  afterwards  to  the  Villa 
Mattel.  The  Prince  then  asked  Lady  Ash- 
burton to  sit  down  near  the  entrance,  and 
we  raced  up  and  down  the  walks,  with  the 
Americans  cantering  after  us,  and  eventually 
slipped  under  one  of  the  high  box  hedges, 
returned  by  the  concealed  way,  snapped  up 
Lady  Ashburton,  and  escaped  from  the  Villa, 
the  gates  of  which  were  locked  behind  us ; 


94 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1B73 


and  how  those  Americans  got  out  I  have  never 
known. 

I  was  truly  sorry  when  the  Prince  went 
away  to  Naples.  He  sent  me  from  thence 
some  friends  of  his — Colonel  Crichton  and  his 
most  sweet  wife  Lady  Madeleine  (a  daughter 
of  Lord  Headfort,  who  has  died  since),  and 
asked  me  to  do  what  I  could  for  them.  I  knew 
that  this  meant  lectures  of  the  same  kind  which 
I  had  given  for  the  Prince  himself,  and  thus 
was  originated  my  long  course  of  Roman 
lectures. 

At  one  of  my  lectures  at  the  Palace  of  the 
Caesars  a  curious  thing  happened.  We  were 
about  forty  in  number,  and  I  had  taken  my 
company  all  over  the  palace,  explaining  and 
telling  the  story  of  the  different  rooms  as  we 
went.  Finally,  as  was  my  habit,  I  assembled 
them  on  the  slope  towards  the  Forum  for  a  sort 
of  recapitulation  and  final  discourse  on  all  we 
had  seen.  I  had  observed  a  stranger  who  had 
attached  himself  to  our  party  looking  more  and 
more  angry  every  minute,  but  the  ''why"  I 
could  not  understand.  When  I  had  concluded, 
the  stranger  stepped  forward,  and  in  a  very 
loud  voice  addressed  the  whole  party — Gentle- 
men and  ladies,  it  is  not  my  habit  to  push 
myself  forward,  and  it  is  excessively  painful  to 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


95 


me  to  do  it  on  the  present  occasion  ;  but  there 
are  some  things  which  no  gentleman  ought  to 
pass  unnoticed.  All  that  this  person  has  been 
telling  you  about  the  Palace  of  the  Caesars, 
he  has  had  the  effrontery  to  relate  to  you  as 
if  it  were  his  own.  You  will  be  astounded, 
gentlemen  and  ladies,  to  hear  that  it  is  taken, 
word  for  word— word  for  word,  without  the 
slightest  acknowledgment,  from  Mr.  Hare's 
*  Walks  in  Rome  ! '  " 

I  only  said,  ''Oh,  I  am  so  much  obliged  to 
you.  I  did  not  know  there  was  anybody  in 
the  world  who  would  defend  my  interests  so 
kindly.     I  am  Augustus  Hare." 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

^'//  TeinpiettOj  Romey  March  9,  1873. — I  am  much 
better,  but  still  have  fever  every  three  days.  The 
weather  is  glorious,  and  Miss  Wright,  who  arrived 
ten  days  ago,  is  revelling  in  the  hot  sunshine 

''On  Monday  we  had  an  enchanting  expedition  to 
Veii ;  there  were  twelve  riders  and  five  carriages.  I 
went  with  Miss  Baring^  and  her  governess,  and  we 
had  quite  a  banquet  near  the  waterfall,  with  the  old 
castle  of  Isola  Farnese  opposite,  and  the  woods  around 
us  carpeted  with  cyclamen,  violets,  and  blue  and  white 
anemones,  while  the  cHffs  were  snow-drifted  with 
laurustinus.    After  luncheon,  the  adventurous  part  of 


^  Afterwards  Lady  Comptoii. 


96 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


the  company,  the  Sackvilles,  Miss  Wright,  &c.,  went 
on  with  me  to  the  Ponte  Sodo  and  the  painted  tombs 
— such  a  hot  walk  through  the  woods,  but  we  came 
back  to  Rome  before  sunset. 

''At  the  end  of  this  week  I  have  a  lecture  on  the 
Christian  history  of  the  Trastevere. 

''  I  think  a  RepubHc  here  will  soon  follow  that  of 
Spain.  Victor  Emmanuel  is  so  hated,  and  the  pro- 
fligacy of  the  Court  and  the  cruel  taxes  are  hastening 


the  end.  People  already  shout  '  Viva  la  RepubHca ' 
and  bawl  Garibaldian  hymns  all  night.  I  wonder 
whether  you  would  think  the  freedom  of  religious 
worship  a  compensation  for  the  moral  changes  here 
— the  shops  always  open  on  Sundays,  which  were 
formerly  so  strictly  closed,  the  churches  deserted, 
stalls  for  infidel  books  in  the  streets,  and  an  osten- 
tatious immorality  which  was  formerly  unknown. 
In  the  Carnival,  in  insulting  reference  to  the  Pope, 
a  pasteboard  dome  of  St.  Peter's  was  made  to  travel 


From  "  Days  near  Rome.'' 


UBRAHY 
Of  THE 

uH^vEHsiry  or  iiuHois 


1 873] 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


97 


up  and  down  the  Corso  in  a  car,  with  a  parrot  im- 
prisoned in  a  cage  on  the  top,  ^ pappagallo'  being 
Italian  for  a  parrot,  and  ^  Papa  Gallo '  a  nickname 
given  to  Pio  Nono  during  the  French  occupation. 
The  parrot  struggled  and  fluttered  through  the  first 
day,  but  it  died  of  sea-sickness  in  the  evening,  and 
afterwards  it  appeared  stuffed.  The  Pope  has  felt 
bitterly  the  confiscation  of  the  convents  and  other 


religious  institutions  which  the  Sardinian  Government, 
when  it  first  entered  Rome,  promised  so  strictly  to 
respect ;  and  triduos  have  been  held  at  St.  Peter's 
and  at  S.  Ignazio  to  implore  that  the  spoliation  may 
be  averted,  or  that  a  judgment  may  follow  the  spoiler. 
In  St.  Peter's  twenty  thousand  persons  were  collected 
on  Sunday  afternoon  to  join  with  one  voice  in  this 
supplication.  Pius  IX.  took  no  part  in  the  mani- 
festation :  on  Sunday  afternoon  he  is  quietly  occupied 
as  a  bishop  in  the  Sala  Regia,  in  explaining  the 


PONTE  dell'  ISOLA,  VEH.l 


From  "Days  near  Rome. 


VOL.  IV. 


G 


98  THE    STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1873 

Epistle  and  Gospel  for  the  day,  and  praying  with  the 
people  of  the  different  Roman  parishes,  who  come 
to  him  in  turn,  attended  by  their  priests.  Amongst 
the  nuns  who  have  suffered  most  are  the  Poor  Clares 
of  S.  Lorenzo  Panisperna,  who,  when  they  were 
driven  out  of  the  greater  part  of  their  convent  in 
February  1872,  were  allowed  to  retain  and  fit  up  a 
few  small  rooms,  from  which  they  are  now  forcibly 
ejected  altogether.  The  nuns  of  S.  Antonio  on  the 
Esquiline,  who  plaited  all  the  palms  used  in  the  pro- 
cessions at  St.  Peter's,  were  driven  out  more  than  a 
year  ago,  though  their  convent  has  never  hitherto 
been  used  for  anything  else.  The  nuns  of  S.  Giacomo 
alia  Lungara  are  reduced  to  absolute  beggary.  The 
Carmelites  of  S.  Maria  Vittoria  have  been  driven  out, 
and  their  Superior  died  of  a  broken  heart  on  the 
day  of  their  ejection.  The  nuns  of  S.  Teresa,  when 
driven  out  of  their  convent,  were  permitted  to  take 
refuge  in  that  of  Regina  Coeli,  where  they  were 
allowed  to  fit  up  a  corridor  with  canvas  partitions : 
now  they  are  driven  out  again,  in  spite  of  solemn 
promises,  and  without  any  compensation.  If  the 
dowries  of  all  these  ladies,  given  to  them  by  their 
parents  exactly  as  marriage  portions  are  given,  were 
restored,  comparatively  little  could  be  said,  but  their 
fortunes  are  all  confiscated  by  the  Government.  A 
pitiful  allowance  is  promised,  just  sufficient  to  keep 
body  and  soul  together,  but  even  this  is  seldom  paid ; 
for  instance,  in  the  case  of  the  nuns  of  S.  Teresa, 
the  ^  as  segno  ^  for  the  first  half  of  1871  was  not  paid 
till  October  1872,  and  since  then  nothing  has  been 
paid.    In  the  same  way  it  is  supposed  that  the  con- 


1873]  IN    MY   SOLITARY    LIFE  99 

ventiial  buildings  and  gardens  are  paid  for  at  a 
valuation,  yet  the  real  value  of  those  of  the  Cappuccini, 
in  one  of  the  most  important  situations  of  the  town, 
is  ;^40,000,  and  it  is  expropriated  at  4000  francs 
(£i6o)f  while  even  this  is  to  be  paid  in  paper  and 
at  great  intervals  of  time.  Amongst  the  last  insti- 
tutions seized  are  the  Orphan  Asylum  of  the  Quattro 
Incoronati,  and  the  Conservatorio  Pio,  an  especial  and 
beloved  institution  of  Pio  Nono,  intended  as  a  school 
for  servants  and  for  instructing  young  girls  in  house- 
hold work.^ 

''The  heads  of  the  clerical  schools  have  inquired 
from  Pius  IX.  whether  their  pupils  were  to  salute 
Queen  Margaret  when  she  passed  them.  'Certainly/ 
answered  the  Pope ;  '  is  she  not  a  member  of  the 
royal  house  of  Savoy  ?  ' 

"There  is  a  stall  for  Bibles  now  opposite  S.  Carlo. 
A  great  dog  manages  it,  such  a  fine  beast.  He  cannot 
be  expected  to  do  all  the  business,  so  he  just  receives 
the  customers,  and,  when  any  one  wants  a  Bible,  he 
puts  his  feet  up  and  barks. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  of  Sir  George  Grey  having 
given  the  '  Memorials '  to  the  Queen,  and  I  have  a 
most  kind  letter  from  Lord  Stanhope,  delighted  with 
'  Wanderings  in  Spain.' 

March  17. — Yesterday  I  drove  with  Lady  Ash- 
burton  to  Castel  Fusano ;  Miss  Wright,  Miss  Howard, 

^  Perhaps  the  interest  of  these  details  is  of  the  past,  but  I  insert  them 
because  the  conduct  of  the  Sardinian  Government  is  being  rapidly 
forgotten,  and  I  was  at  great  pains  in  obtaining  accurate  statistics 
and  verifying  the  facts  mentioned. 


lOO  THE    STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1^73 

and  Walter  Jekyll  going  in  another  carriage,  and  we 
picnicked  under  the  grand  old  pine-trees,  and  had  a 
deHcious  day,  wandering  through  the  labyrinths  of  sweet 
daphne  and  rosemary,  and  over  carpets  of  cyclamen 
in  fullest  bloom. 

I  have  had  several  more  lectures.    There  was  a 


CASTEL  FUSANO.l 


party  of  forty,  which  is  the  largest  I  can  manage,  at  the 
one  on  the  Early  Christian  Church  in  the  Trastevere. 
We  met  on  the  Island,  where  I  gave  a  sort  of  pre- 
liminary discourse,  and  led  my  troop  to  everything 
connected  with  the  Christian  martyrs.  To-morrow  I 
have  the  same  kind  of  lecture  on  the  Esquiline.  Mrs. 
Locke  and  her  pretty  charming  little  grand-daughter^ 

^  From  '*Pays  near  Rome." 

^  Afterwards  Duchess  of  Marino. 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


lOI 


unexpectedly  joined  us  at  S.  Cecilia,  and  seemed  much 
interested,  never  having  visited  tlic  Roman  sights  be- 
fore. I  dined  v^^ith  them  last  night — an  exceptionally 
pleasant  party,  as  Mrs.  Locke,  the  Duchess,  and  the 
little  Countess  move  about  constantly  all  evening, 
and  do  their  utmost  to  amuse  their  guests,  unhke 
most  stiff  Italian  hostesses.  They  seem  to  me  to 
have  three  grades  of  beauty,  the  grandmother's  being 
the  highest." 

14  Trinita  de'  Montty  March  29. — There  are 
many  quiet  hours  here,  such  as  one  gets  nowhere  else, 
and  yet  endless  society  of  the  most  interesting  kind ; 
troops  of  visitors  of  every  sort,  and  v^hat  contrasts 
those  of  a  single  day  furnish — Madama  de  Bonis  at 
breakfast,  for  help  with  her  photographs ;  then  Rosina 
the  poor  donna ;  then  Lady  Howard  de  Walden  and  a 
daughter ;  then  Signor  Monachesi,  the  Italian  master  ; 
then  the  Marchese  Carcolo,  fresh  from  Perugia;  then 
three  ugly  old  ladies,  whose  names  I  failed  to  dis- 
cover, who  wanted  to  be  told  where  to  live,  how 
to  live,  and  what  to  live  upon ;  then  Mrs.  Foljambe 
from  Villa  Savorelli;  then  Signor  Altini  the  sculptor, 
to  ask  for  recommendations :  and  this  is  only  an 
ordinary  Roman  day,  yet  I  cannot  feel  it  is  a  useless 
hfe.'' 

Albano^  April  6. — Yesterday,  after  dining  with 
Mrs.  Lockwood,  I  went  to  meet  Princess  Alice  at  the 
S.  Arpinos'.  They  have  a  beautiful  suite  of  rooms 
in  the  Bonaparte  Palace,  the  same  in  which  '  Madame 
Mere'  died.    Many  ambassadors  and  Roman  princes 


I02 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


and  princesses  were  there,  but  only  five  English.  I 
was  presented  at  once  to  Prince  Louis,  who  is  very 
German  and  speaks  very  broken  EngHsh,  but  is  much 
better-looking  than  his  photographs.  He  talked  for  a 
long  time  about  Rome  and  my  book.  Later  in  the  even- 
ing I  was  presented  to  the  Princess.  She  said  at  once, 
'  Oh,  I  know  your  face,  I  have  seen  you  before,'  and 
with  royal  memory  recollected  all  about  coming  to  see 
my  Mother,  &c.  She  said,  '  I  have  gone  about  every- 
where with  your  book,  and  I  am  so  pleased  to  be  able 
to  say  that  I  have  found  out  a  mistake  in  it :  you  say 
that  the  church  at  the  Navicella  was  designed  by 
Michelangelo,  and  it  was  not ;  it  was  designed  by 
Raffaelle :  I  know  all  about  it,  for  my  dear  father 
had  the  original  plan  and  sketch  for  it.  My  dear 
father  always  took  a  great  interest  in  the  Navicella. 
I  have  been  to  see  the  martyrdoms  at  S.  Stefano  : 
they  are  quite  shocking.'  She  talked  for  some  time, 
then  some  one  else  was  brought  up.  She  is  grown 
much  fatter  and  prettier,  and  was  very  simply  dressed 
in  high  slate-coloured  silk  with  a  pearl  necklace. 
We  all  stayed  till  she  left  at  ii  P.M.,  and  then  made 
an  avenue  down  the  reception  rooms,  through  which 
she  passed,  saying  a  little  separate  word  to  each 
lady. 

Mrs.  Locke  i  said  Princess  Margherita  was  deep 
in  '  Walks  in  Rome,'^  and  had  desired  her  to  get  me  to 

^  Mother  of  the  Duchess  S.  Arpino. 

^  Shortly  before  this  my  publishers  had  given  me  a  magnificently 
bound  copy  of Walks  in  Rome,"  with  the  desire  that  I  would  present 
it  to  Princess  Margherita.  I  demurred  to  doing  this,  because,  owing  to 
the  strictures  which  the  book  contains  on  the  *'  Sardinian  Government," 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


103 


tell  her  (Mrs.  Locke)  a  ghost-story,  and  then  come  and 
retail  it  immediately ! 

''Yesterday  I  went  with  Lady  Howard  and  her 
daughter  and  Miss  Wright  to  Tusciilum  and  Frascati. 
I  never  saw  the  Villa  Mondragone  before.  How  very 
grand  it  is,  and  the  view  was  exquisitely  lovely — 
such  blue  shadows  cast  by  the  clouds  upon  the  pink 
campagna.  All  the  ascent  to  Tusculum  was  fringed  with 
cyclamen,  large  purple  violets,  laurustinus,  and  blue  and 
white  anemones,  also  the  loveliest  little  blue  squills. 

''On  Wednesday  I  met  Miss  Wright  and  Miss 
Howard  at  Albano,  and  we  had  an  interesting  after- 
noon amongst  the  huge  Cyclopean  remains  of  Alatri, 
driving  on  in  the  beautiful  gloaming  to  Ferentino, 
where  we  slept  at  a  primitive  but  clean  Italian  tavern. 
The  next  day  we  reached  Segni,  a  Pelasgic  city  on  the 
very  highest  peak  of  the  Volscian  mountains.  On 
Friday  I  joined  Lady  Howard  de  Walden  and  her  two 
daughters,  and  with  them  revisited  the  glorious  old 
Papal  citadel  of  Anagni,  where  Boniface  VIIL  was 
imprisoned,  and  where  there  are  many  relics  of  him, 
though  to  me  Anagni  has  an  even  deeper  interest, 
because  from  its  walls  you  can  see,  on  the  barren  side 
of  the  mountain,  the  brown  building  of  Acuto,  where  my 
sister's  revered  friend  Maria  di  Matthias  preached  the 
sermons  which  had  such  an  extraordinary  influence 
throughout  this  wild  country." 

I  thought  it  might  be  considered  little  less  than  an  impertinence  ;  but  I 
told  the  Duchess  S.  Arpino,  who  was  in  waiting  at  the  time,  and  she 
repeated  it.  The  amiable  Princess  said,  am  sorry  Mr.  Hare  does  not 
appreciate  us,  but  I  should  like  my  present  all  the  same,"  and  the  book 
was  sent  to  her. 


104  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1^73 

StibiacOy  April  i6. — We  spent  Good  Friday  on 
the  seashore  at  Porto  d^Anzio,  a  delightful  place,  over- 
grown with  gorgeous  pink  mesembryanthemum,  and 
with  huge  remains  of  Nero's  palace  projecting  far 


CYCLOPEAN  GATE  OF  ALATRI.l 

into  the  sea.  For  Easter  we  were  at  Velletri,  and  on 
Monday  drove  through  the  blooming  country  to  Cori, 
where,  after  seeing  the  beautiful  temple,  we  rode  along 
the  edge  of  stupendous  precipices  to  Norba,  and  the 

^  From  *'Days  near  Rome." 


1 873] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFK 


105 


man  -  deserted  flower  -  possessed  fairy -like  town  of 
Ninfa,  returning  by  the  light  of  the  stars — ^  le  Ninfe 
eterne '  of  Dante.  Tuesday  we  went  to  Palestrina,  an 
extraordinary  place  with  a  perfectly  savage  population  ; 
and   Wednesday  we  came  hither  through  Olevano, 


THE  INN  AT  FERENTINO. 


which  is  a  paradise  of  beauty.  This  place  seems  quite 
as  grandly  beautiful  as  we  thought  it  fifteen  years 
ago.'' 

Rome  J  April  28. — I  parted  with  my  kind  Miss 

^  From     Days  near  Rome." 


I06  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1873 

Wright  at  Tivoli,  and  next  day  returned  to  Rome  in 
the  public  omnibus."^ 

A  few  days  later  I  left  Rome  again  with 
Mr.    and    Mrs.    Arbuthnot  Feilden  and  the 


PAPAL  PALACE,  ANAGNL^ 

Misses  Crawford  (daughters  of  Mrs.  Terry, 
and  sisters  of  Marion  Crawford)  for  a  tour  in 
the  Ciminian  Hills,  which  always  comes  back 
to  me  as  a  dream  of  transcendent  loveliness. 


^  This  quaint  journey  is  described  in  the  introductory  chapter  ot 
Days  near  Rome." 

From  **Days  near  Rome." 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


107 


We  left  the  railway  at  Civita  Castcllana,  an 
unspeakably  beautiful  place,  which  I  drew  in 
the  early  dewy  morning,  sitting  on  the  edge 
of  its  tremendous  rocky  gorge,  above  which 
Soracte,  steeped  in  violet  shadows,  rises  out 


TEMPLES  OF  CORL^ 

of  the  tender  green  of  the  plain.  On  May- 
day we  ascended  Soracte,  queen  of  lovely 
mountains,  mounting  gradually  from  the  rich 
lower  slopes  into  the  excelsior  of  olives,  and 

^  From  **Days  near  Rome." 


I08  THE    STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  [1873 

thence  to  steeps  of  bare  grey  rock,  crowned 
— in  the  most  subHme  position — by  the  ruined 
monastery  of  S.  Silvestro.  It  is  the  most 
exquisite  drive  from  Civita  Castellana,  by 
Nepi,  with  a  great  machicolated  castle  over- 
hanging a  foaming  waterfall,  and  Sutri — ''the 


NINFA.l 


key  of  Etruria " — with  its  solemn  Roman 
amphitheatre  surrounded  by  some  of  the 
grandest  ilexes  in  the  world,  to  Ronciglione. 
Hence  we  visited  Caprarola,  and  I  will  insert 
a  little  extract  from     Days  near  Rome"  about 

^  From  "Days  near  Rome." 


1S73]  IN    MY    SOLITARY    LIFE  I O9 

this  expedition,  it  reminds  me  of  so  wondrously 
beautiful  and  delightful  a  day. 

From  the  little  deep-blue  lake  of  Vico  it  is  a  long 
ascent,  and  oh  !  what  Italian  scenery,  quite  unspoilt 


S.  ORESTE,  FROM  SORACTE.l 


by  the  English,  who  never  come  here  now.  The  road 
is  generally  a  dusty  hollow  in  the  tufa,  which,  as  we 
pass,  is  fringed  with  broom  in  full  flower,  and  all  the 
little  children  we  meet  have  made  themselves  wreaths 
and  gathered  long  branches  of  it,  and  wave  them 

^  From  "  Days  near  Rome." 


IIO  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1873 

like  golden  sceptres.  Along  the  brown  ridges  of 
thymy  tufa  by  the  wayside,  flocks  of  goats  are 
scrambhng,  chiefly  white,  but  a  few  black  and  dun- 
coloured  creatures  are  mingled  with  them,  mothers 
with  their  little  dancing  elf-like  kids,  and  old  bearded 
patriarchs  who  love  to  clamber  to  the  very  end  of 
the  most  inaccessible  places,  and  to  stand  there  em- 
bossed against  the  clear  sky,  in  triumphant  quietude. 
The  handsome  shepherd  dressed  in  white  linen  lets 
them  have  their  own  way,  and  the  great  rough  white 
dogs  only  keep  a  lazy  eye  upon  them  as  they  them- 
selves lie  panting  and  luxuriating  in  the  sunshine. 
Deep  down  below  us,  it  seems  as  if  all  Italy  were 
opening  out,  as  the  mists  roll  stealthily  away,  and 
range  after  range  of  delicate  mountain  distance  is 
discovered.  Volscian,  Hernican,  Sabine,  and  Alban 
hills,  Soracte  nobly  beautiful — rising  out  of  the  soft 
quiet  lines  of  the  Campagna,  and  the  Tiber  winding 
out  of  the  rich  meadow-lands  into  the  desolate  wastes, 
till  it  is  lost  from  sight  before  it  reaches  where  a 
great  mysterious  dome  rises  solemnly  through  the 
mist,  and  reminds  one  of  the  times  when,  years  ago, 
in  the  old  happy  vetturino  days,  we  used  to  stop 
the  carriage  on  this  very  spot,  to  have  our  first  sight 
of  St.  Peter's. 

''Near  a  little  deserted  chapel,  a  road  branches  off 
on  the  right,  a  rough  stony  road  enough,  which  soon 
descends  abruptly  through  chestnut  woods,  and  then 
through  deep  clefts  cut  in  the  tufa  and  overhung 
by  shrubs  and  flowers,  every  winding  a  picture,  till 
in  about  half-an-hour  we  arrive  at  Caprarola.  Why 
do  not  more  people  come  here  ?  it  is  so  very  easy. 


1873]  IN    MY    SOLITARY    LIFE  I  I  I 

As  we  emerge  from  our  rocky  way,  the  wonderful 
position  of  the  place  bursts  upon  us  at  once.  The 
grand,  tremendous  palace  stands  backed  by  chestnut 
woods,  which  fade  into  rocky  hills,  and  it  looks  down 
from  .a  high-terraced  platform  upon  the  little  golden- 


CONVENT  OF  S.  SILVESTRO,  SUMMIT  OF  SORACTE.^ 


roofed  town  beneath,  and  then  out  upon  the  whole 
glorious  rainbow-tinted  view,  in  which,  as  everywhere 
we  have  been,  lion-like  Soracte,  couching  over  the 
plain,  is  the  most  conspicuous  feature.  The  buildings 
are  so  vast  in  themselves,  and  every  line  so  noble, 

^  From    Days  near  Rome." 


I  I  2 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1873 


every  architectural  idea  so  stupendous,  that  one  is 
carried  back  almost  with  awe  to  the  recollections  of 
the  great-souled  Farnese  who  originated  the  design, 
and  the  grand  architect  who  carried  it  out.  S.  Carlo 
Borromeo,  the  great  patron  of  idle  almsgiving,  came 
hither  to  see  it  when  it  was  completed,  and  com- 
plained that  so  much  money  had  not  been  given  to 
the  poor  instead.    '  I  have  let  them  have  it  all  little 


SUTRI.l 


by  little,'  said  Alessandro  Farnese,  'but  I  have  made 
them  earn  it  by  the  sweat  of  their  brows/ 

''Are  we  really  in  Arcadia,  when  the  old  steward 
opens  the  door  from  the  dark  halls  where  the  Titanic 
forms  of  the  frescoed  figures  loom  upon  us  through 
the  gloom,  to  the  garden  where  the  brilliant  sunshine 
is  lighting  up  long  grass  walks  between  clipped  hedges, 
adding  to  the  splendour  of  the  flame-coloured  marigolds 

1  From  *'Days  near  Rome." 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


upon  the  old  walls,  and  even  gilding  the  edges  of  the 
dark  spires  of  the  cypresses  which  were  planted  three 
hundred  years  ago  ?  From  the  upper  terraces  we 
enter  an  ancient  wood,  carpeted  with  flowers — yellow 
orchis,  iris,  lilies,  saxifrage,  cyclamen,  and  Solomon's 
seal.    And  then  we  pause,  for  at  the  end  of  the  avenue 


CAPRAROLA.l 


we  meet  with  a  huge  figure  of  Silence,  with  his  finger 
on  his  lips. 

Here  an  artificial  cascade  tumbles  sparkling  down 
the  middle  of  the  hillside  path,  through  a  succession 
of  stone  basins,  and  between  a  number  of  stone 
animals,  who  are  sprinkled  with  its  spray,  and  so 
we  reach  an  upper  garden  before  the  fairy-like  casino 
which  was  also  built  by  Vignola.    Here  the  turfy 

^  From  "  Days  near  Rome." 
VOL.  IV.  H 


114  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  U^73 

solitudes  are  encircled  with  a  concourse  of  stone  figures 
in  every  variety  of  attitude,  a  perfect  population. 
Some  are  standing  quietly  gazing  down  upon  us,  others 
are  playing  upon  different  musical  instruments,  others 
are  listening.  Two  Dryads  are  whispering  important 
secrets  to  one  another  in  a  corner;  one  impertinent 


PAPAL  PALACE,  VITERBO. 

Faun  is  blowing  his  horn  so  loudly  into  his  companion's 
ears  that  he  stops  them  with  both  his  hands.  A  nymph 
is  about  to  step  down  from  her  pedestal,  and  will 
probably  take  a  bath  as  soon  as  we  are  gone,  though 
certainly  she  need  not  be  shy  about  it,  as  drapery  is 
not  much  the  fashion  in  these  sylvan  gardens.  Above, 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


behind  the  Casino,  is  yet  another  water-sparkling  stair- 
case guarded  by  a  vast  number  of  huge  Hons  and 
griffins,  and  beyond  this  all  is  tangled  wood  and 
rocky  mountain-side.  How  we  pity  the  poor  King  and 
Queen  of  Naples,  the  actual  possessors,  but  who  can 
never  come  here  now.  The  whole  place  is  Hke  a  dream 
which  you  wish  may  never  end,  and  as  one  gazes  through 
the  stony  crowd  across  the  green  glades  to  the  rosy- 


FROM  THE  WALLS  OF  ORVIETO. 

hued  mountains,  one  dreads  the  return  to  a  world 
where  Fauns  and  Dryads  are  still  supposed  to  be 
mythical,  and  which  has  never  known  Caprarola.'^ 

We  spent  several  days  at  Viterbo — ''the 
city  of  beautiful  fountains  " — w^hich  has  never 
been  half  appreciated  by  travellers,  and  made 
many  curious  excursions  into  Etruria,  which 
are  all  described  in  my  book  ;  and  then  pro- 


Il6  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  U^73 

ceeded  to  Orvieto — all-glorious  Orvieto.  Once 
more  I  will  quote    Days  near  Rome." 

''Long  before  reaching  Orvieto,  one  comes  in  sight 
of  it.  It  occupies  an  Etqiiscan  site.  On  turning  the 
crest  of  the  hills  which  shelter  Bolsena,  one  looks 
down  into  a  wide  valley  filled  with  the  richest  vegeta- 
tion,— peach-trees  and  almonds  and  figs,  with  vines 
leaping  from  tree  to  tree  and  chaining  them  together, 
and  beneath,  an  unequalled  luxuriance  of  corn  and  peas 
and  melons,  every  tiniest  space  occupied.  Mountains 
of  the  most  graceful  forms  girdle  in  this  paradise,  and, 
from  the  height  whence  we  first  gaze  upon  it,  endless 
distances  are  seen,  blue  and  roseate  and  snowy,  melt- 
ing into  infinity  of  space ;  while,  from  the  valley  itself, 
rises,  island-like,  a  mass  of  orange-coloured  rock, 
crowned  with  old  walls  and  houses  and  churches, 
from  the  centre  of  which  is  uplifted  a  vast  cathedral, 
with  delicate  spray-like  pinnacles,  and  a  golden  and 
jewelled  front, — and  this  is  Orvieto. 

''The  first  impression  is  one  which  is  never  for- 
gotten,— a  picture  which  remains ;  and  the  quiet  gran- 
deurs of  the  place,  as  time  and  acquaintance  bring  it 
home  to  one,  only  paint  in  the  details  of  that  first 
picture  more  carefully. 

"  We  descend  into  the  plain  by  the  winding  road, 
where  wains  of  great  oxen  are  always  employed  for 
the  country-work  of  the  hillside,  and  we  ascend  the 
hill  on  which  the  city  stands  and  enter  it  by  a  gate 
in  rocky  walls.  The  town  is  remarkably  clean,  but 
one  has  always  the  feeling  of  being  in  a  fortress. 
Unlike  Viterbo,  gaiety  and  brightness  seem  to  have 


1 873] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


117 


deserted  its  narrow  streets  of  dark  houses,  interspersed 
with  huge  tall  square  towers  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
and  themselves,  in  the  less  frequented  parts,  built  of  rich 
brown  stone,  with  sculptured  cornices  to  their  massive 
doors  and  windows,  and  resting  on  huge  buttresses. 
From  one  of  the  narrowest  and  darkest  of  these  streets 
we  come  suddenly  upon  the  cathedral,  a  blaze  of  light 
and  colour,  the  most  aerial  gothic  structure  in  the 
world,  every  line  a  line  of  beauty.  There  is  some- 
thing in  the  feeling  that  no  artists  worked  at  this 
glorious  temple  but  the  greatest  architects,  the  greatest 
sculptors  of  their  time,  that  no  material  was  used  but 
that  which  was  most  precious,  most  costly,  and  which 
would  produce  the  most  glorious  effect,  which  carries 
one  far  away  from  all  comparisons  with  other  earthly 
buildings — to  the  description  in  the  Revelation  of  the 
New  Jerusalem.  The  very  platform  on  which  the 
cathedral  stands  is  of  purple  Apennine  marble ;  the 
loveliest  jaspers  and  pietre  dure  are  worked  into  its 
pinnacles  and  buttresses  ;  the  main  foundation  of  its 
pictured  front  is  gold.  A  hundred  and  fifty-two 
sculptors,  of  whom  Arnolfo  and  Giovanni  da  Pisa  are 
the  greatest  names  handed  down  to  us,  worked  upon 
the  ornamentation  near  the  base :  sixty-eight  painters 
and  ninety  workers  in  mosaic  gave  life  to  the  glorious 
pictures  of  its  upper  stories.  All  the  surroundings 
are  harmonious — solemn  old  houses,  with  black  and 
white  marble  seats  running  along  their  basement, 
on  which  one  may  sit  and  gaze :  a  tower  surmounted 
by  a  gigantic  bronze  warrior,  who  strikes  the  hours 
with  the  clash  of  his  sword  upon  a  great  bell :  an 
ancient  oblong   palace  with  gothic  arches  and  flat 


Il8  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1B73 

windows,  where  thirty-four  popes  have  sought  a  refuge 
or  held  a  court  at  different  times — all  serving  as  a  dark 
setting  to  make  more  resplendent  the  glittering  radiancy 
of  the  golden  front  of  the  temple  in  their  midst. 

No  passing  traveller,  no  stayer  for  one  night,  can 
realise  Orvieto.  Hours  must  be  passed  on  those  old 
stone  benches,  hours  in  reading  the  wondrous  lessons 
of  art,  of  truth,  of  beauty  and  of  holiness  which  this 
temple  of  temples  can  unfold.  For  Orvieto  is  not 
merely  a  vast  sculpture-gallery  and  a  noble  building, 
but  its  every  stone  has  a  story  to  tell  or  a  mystery  to 
explain.  What  depths  of  thought  are  hidden  in  those 
tremendous  marble  pictures  between  the  doors  !  First 
the  whole  story  of  Genesis,  then  the  Old  Testament 
story  which  followed  Genesis,  leading  on  to  the  birth 
of  Christ ;  then  the  story  of  our  Saviour's  life  upon 
earth ;  and  lastly,  the  lesson  of  His  redemption  wrought 
for  us,  in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  to  the  second 
life.  Even  the  minor  figures  which  surround  these 
greater  subjects,  how  much  they  have  to  tell  us  !  Take 
the  wondrous  angels  which  surround  the  story  of  Christ ; 
the  Awe-stricken  Angel  of  the  Salutation,  the  Welcom- 
ing Angel  of  the  Flight  into  Egypt,  the  Praying 
Angel  of  the  Temptation,  the  Suffering  Angel  of  the 
Betrayal,  the  Agonised  Angel  (and,  oh,  what  a  sub- 
lime figure,  with  its  face  covered  with  its  hands !)  of 
the  Crucifixion,  the  Angel,  rapt  in  entire  unutterable 
beatitude,  of  the  Resurrection.  Or  let  us  look  at 
the  groups  ot  prophets,  who,  standing  beneath  the 
life  of  Christ,  foresee  and  foretell  its  events, — their 
eager  invocation,  their  meditation,  their  inspiration, 
their  proclamation  of  that  which  was  to  be." 


1873] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


119 


My  companions  returned  to  Rome  from 
Orvieto  and  I  went  on  to  Florence,  where  I 
found  two  old  friends  of  my  childhood — Ann- 
Emilia  and  Kate  Malcolm,  the  latter  of  whom 
has  always  been  one  of  the  most  agreeable 
and  charming  women  I  have  ever  known/ 
I  remember  her  telling  me,  on  this  occasion, 
of  a  friend  of  hers  who  was  one  day  sitting 
at  the  end  of  her  terrace  at  a  retired  watering- 
place,  and  heard  a  bride  and  bridegroom  talking 
together  beneath.  My  dear,"  said  the  bride- 
groom, I  think  it  would  not  be  unpleasant  if 
a  friend  were  to  turn  up  this  evening/' — My 
dear,"  retorted  the  bride,  I  should  be  thankful 
to  see  even  an  enemy T  She  had  also  a  story  of 
an  old  Scotch  minister,  who,  being  summoned 
to  marry  some  couples,  thus  addressed  them  : — 
'  Ma  freends,  to  many,  marriage  is  a  great 
curse  :  ma  freends,  to  some  marriage  is  a  great 
blessing  :  ma  freends,  to  all  marriage  is  a  great 
uncertainty :  wull  ye  risk  it  ? "  and  they  all 
said  '^Yes."  With  the  Malcolms  I  saw  much 
of  Sir  James  Lacaita.  He  was  very  full  of 
convents  and  their  abuses.  He  told  me  that 
he  had  personally  known  a  nun  who  was  forced 
into  a  convent  to  prevent  her  from  marrying 

^  Miss  Kate  Malcolm,  the  last  of  her  family,  died,  universally  beloved, 
in  May  1891. 


120 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


the  man  she  loved ;  but  he  made  a  silken 
ladder,  and,  by  bribing  the  gardener,  got  it  fixed 
to  her  window.  The  nun  escaped,  but  was 
in  such  a  hurry  to  descend,  that  she  slid  down 


PORCH  OF  CREMONA. 1 


the  cords,  cut  open  both  her  hands,  and  bore 
the  marks  all  her  life.  Her  lover  was  rich, 
had  relays  of  horses,  and  they  escaped  to  Sicily, 
were  married  at  once,  and  had  eleven  children. 
Lacaita  also  told  me  : — 


P^rom  "Northern  Italy." 


iS73] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


121 


'^A  beautiful  girl  of  good  family  was  left  £6000  by 
her  father,  on  condition  that  she  did  not  enter  a  con- 
vent. To  prevent  her  doing  so,  he  ordained  that  the 
money  should  revert  to  her  brother  in  case  of  her 
becoming  a  nun. 

"The  girl  hated  the  very  idea  of  a  convent,  but 


PIAZZA  MAGGIORE,  BERGAMO. 


the  brother  made  a  compact  with  an  abbess  to  give 
her  a  third  of  the  girl's  fortune  if  they  could  force  her 
to  take  the  veil.  She  resisted  vigorously,  though  the 
brother's  wife  ill-treated  her  in  every  possible  way. 


1  From  "  Northern  Italy." 


122  THE    STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  [1873 

and  she  had  no  other  home.  She  possessed  a  lover, 
who  professed  great  devotion,  but  never  would  come 
to  the  point.  At  last  the  time  came  when  the  brother 
had  arranged  for  her  to  go  to  the  convent.  Her 
treatment  was  such  that  she  had  no  other  course. 
Her  lover  came  and  pitied  her.  She  implored  him : 
she  knelt  at  his  feet :  she  stretched  out  her  hands : 
she  said,  '  You  know  you  can  save  me ; '  but  he  feared 
the  priests,  the  Church,  and  her  brother  too  much. 
As  she  knelt  there,  her  sister-in-law  opened  the  door. 
Then  her  horror  at  her  position  was  so  great,  she  at 
once  declared  that  she  would  take  the  veil :  she  only 
wished  the  event  hurried  on. 

At  last  the  day  of  the  sacrifice  arrived.  Lacaita 
was  present.  The  bride  came  in,  in  her  wedding 
splendour,  fiere^  darting  defiance  at  them  all ;  but 
Lacaita  said  he  never  should  forget  the  shriek  she 
gave  when  all  was  over  and  the  grille  closed  upon 
her. 

The  remorse  of  the  lover  began  at  once :  he 
never  spoke  to  a  woman  for  twenty  years :  then  he 
 married ! " 

Lacaita  also  told  me  a  most  interesting  story 
concerning  persons  whom  he  had  known,  of 
which  I  forget  the  details,  but  the  substance 
was  that — 

A  beautiful  girl  in  Sicily,  of  very  noble  family, 
was  engaged  by  her  parents  to  make  a  magnificent 
marriage  with  an  Italian  prince  of  the  highest  rank,' 
who  had  never  seen  her,  and  had  only  heard  the 


1 873] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


123 


report  of  her  beauty.  As  she  loved  another,  she  made 
great  friends  with  the  gardener's  daughter,  and  per- 
suaded her — for  she  was  very  lovely  also — to  personate 
her,  which  the  peasant  girl,  pleased  at  the  notion  of 
being  a  princess,  was  very  willing  to  do.  Meantime 
the  young  Countess,  supposed  to  have  gone  to  her 
nuptials,  eloped  with  the  lover  she  preferred.  The 
peasant  bride  was  married,  but  her  prince  soon  began 
to  think  she  was  wonderfully  little  educated,  for  he 
had  heard  of  her  great  learning  as  well  as  her  beauty, 
and  especially  of  her  wonderful  artistic  powers,  and 
two  years  after  he  obtained  a  divorce  on  the  plea  that 
she  was  married  under  a  false  name. 

From  Florence  I  went  to  Cremona  and 
Bergamo,  lingering  at  them  and  seeing  them 
thoroughly  in  glorious  weather,  which  made 
one  observe  that,  though  the  Southern  Italian 
skies  are  the  opal  ones,  the  Northern  are  the 
blue. 


I  spent  June  (1873)  in  London.  At  luncheon 
at  Lady  Marion  Alford's  I  met  Mr.  Carlyle, 
who  was  full  of  the  Memorials."  He  said, 
I  do  not  often  cry  and  am  not  much  given 
to  weeping,  but  your  book  is  most  profoundly 
touching,  and  when  the  dear  Augustus  was 
making  the  hay  I  felt  a  lesson  deep  down  in 
my  heart."    He  talked  of  Lady  Ashburton — 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1873 


Ah !  yes,  Lady  Ashburton  is  just  a  bonnie 
Highland  lassie,  a  free-spoken  and  open-hearted 
creature  as  ever  was  ;  and  Hattie  Hosmer,  she 
is  a  fanciful  kind  of  a  being,  who  does  not 
know  yet  that  art  is  dead."  Finally  he  went 
off  into   one  of  his  characteristic  speeches. 

That  which  the  warld  torments  me  in  most 
is  the  awful  confusion  of  noise.  It  is  the  devil's 
own  infernal  din  all  the  blessed  day  long,  con- 
founding Gods  warks  and  His  creatures — a 
truly  awfu'  hell-like  combination,  and  the  warst 
of  a'  is  a  railway  whistle,  like  the  screech  of 
ten  thousand  cats,  and  ivery  cat  of  them  all  as 
big  as  a  cathedral." 

Journal. — To  Miss  Leycester. 

London^  June  14,  1873. — I  have  seen  and  heard 
much  that  is  interesting.  Yesterday  I  met  Lord 
Aberdeen  at  luncheon,  and  Hked  him  very  much. 
Then  I  went  to  old  Lady  Wensleydale's  afternoon 
reception,  intending  to  stay  ten  minutes,  and  did  stay 
two  hours  and  a  half,  it  was  so  agreeable,  and  I  saw 
so  many  old  friends.  Mrs.  W.  Lowther  is  always 
pleasant,  the  rooms  are  delightful,  and  the  charming 
garden  full  of  flowers." 

June  19. — Dined  with  Lord  Ravens  worth — a  very 
pleasant  party,  to  meet  poor  Lord  Durham,  whom  I 
had  not  seen  since  his  great  sorrow.  He  looks  as  if 
he  had  cried  night  and  day  ever  since,  and  did  cry 


iS73] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


125 


in  a  corner  when  a  touching  song  was  sung  about  a 
young  wife.  I  was  very  glad  to  meet  him  again.  He 
is  quite  devoted  to  his  thirteen  children,  and  the 
eldest  girl,  of  thirteen,  manages  everything.*' 

July  3. — The  most  extraordinary  thing  the  Shah 
has  done  has  been  offering  to  buy  Lady  Margaret 
Beaumont  (to  carry  off  to  Persia)  for  ^500,000 ! 

July  24,  1873. — I  went  to  luncheon  with  Lady 
Barrington,  and  found  her  still  in  tears  for  the  Bishop 
of  Winchester's  1  death.  He  had  dined  with  her  a 
few  days  before,  and  she  had  spoken  of  the  pleasure 
it  would  be  to  him  to  go  to  Farnham.  '  Oh,  I  shall 
7iever  go  to  Farnham,'  he  said;  'the  old  Bishop  of 
Winchester  will  long  survive  me ; '  and  so  it  was.  '  Oh, 
what  a  joyful  surprise  for  him ! '  said  Carlyle  when 
he  heard  of  the  Bishop's  sudden  death.  '  He  is  our 
show  man  for  the  Church  of  England,'  Hugh  Pearson 
used  to  say. 

Dined  at  Lord  Salisbury's,  and  sat  between  Miss 
Alderson  and  Lady  Cork.  I  had  always  heard  of  Lady 
Cork  as  one  of  the  best  talkers  in  London,  but  was 
not  prepared  for  such  a  display  of  summer  lightning 
as  it  was.    Here  is  a  trifling  specimen. 

Lord  Salisbury, — '  I  am  so  glad  he  speaks  English. 
I  find  it  such  an  extra  fatigue  to  have  to  struggle  with 
a  foreign  tongue,  and  to  think  of  the  words  as  well 
as  the  ideas.' 

Lady  Cork, — 'Well,  I  am  afraid  when  I  talk,  I 
think  neither  of  the  one  nor  the  other.' 


Samuel  W^ilberforce. 


126  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1873 

Lord  S, — '  Yes,  but  then  you  come  of  a  race  V  .  . 

Lady  C. — ^Wha-a-at,  or  I  had  better  use  that 
most  expressive  French  expression  '  Plait-il  ? '  .  .  . 
We  have  only  one  EngHsh  sentence  which  would  do 
as  well — '  I  beg  your  parding  ^ — with  a  g!  " 

July  26. —  I  reached  Chevening  about  6  P.M.  It 
is  a  dull  square  white  house  with  wings,  but  was 
once  red,  and  was  designed  by  Inigo  Jones,  from 
whom  it  retains  the  old  plan,  not  only  of  the  building, 
but  of  the  straight  avenue,  the  lake,  and  the  fountain 
with  water-lilies  before  the  door.  Between  the  house 
and  the  lake  is  the  loveliest  of  flower-gardens,  a  wilder- 
ness of  old-fashioned  flowers,  most  perfectly  charming. 
Here  Lady  Stanhope  was  sitting  out  with  Lord  and 
Lady  Carnarvon  and  Lord  and  Lady  Mahon.  Lord 
Carnarvon  is  agreeable  and  his  wife  most  lovely  and 
piquant.  Lady  Mahon,  very  prettily  dressed  en  bergcre^ 
looked  like  a  flower  herself  as  she  moved  in  her 
bright  blue  dress  through  the  living  labyrinth  of 
colour. 

Lady  Carnarvon  gave  an  amusing  account  of  her 
visit  to  Dulwich  College,  of  which  her  husband  is  a 
governor,  and  how  she  had  produced  a  great  effect 
by  remarking  that  they  used  a  new  pronunciation  of 
Latin ;  '  and  my  little  girl  behaved  very  well  too,  and, 
though  she  was  most  awfully  bored,  smiled  and  bowed 
at  all  the  right  moments.  .  .  .  We  came  away  before 
the  speeches,  which  were  all  quite  horrid,  I  believe, 
except  Carnarvon's,  and  that  I  am  quite  sure  was  very 
nice  indeed.' 

Lord  Stanhope  talked  of  chess — a  Persian  game : 


1873]  IN    MY   SOLITARY    LIFE  I  27 

in  Germany  they  retain  the  old  names :  checkmate  is 
Shahmate.  He  said  when  the  Shah  of  Persia  was  in 
London  it  was  quite  impossible  to  make  him  under- 
stand how  the  telegraph  worked,  until  some  one  had 
the  presence  of  mind  to  sa};,  '  If  your  Majesty  will 
imagine  an  immense  dog,  so  big  that  his  tail  is  in 
London  while  his  head  is  in  Teheran,  your  Majesty 
will  see  that  if  some  one  treads  upon  his  tail  in 
London,  he  will  bark  in  Teheran/ 

''Lord  Stanhope  spoke  of  the  total  absence  of 
commissariat  management  in  England,  so  that,  if  there 
was  an  invasion,  the  salvation  of  the  country  would 
positively  have  to  be  abandoned  to  Messrs.  Spiers  & 
Pond. 

''  Lord  Carnarvon  asked  why  Oxford  was  like  an 
old  Roman  arsenal.  '  Because  the  honours  are  classes^ 
the  men  are  piippes^  and  the  women  are  nautes.^  " 

''  Sunday^  July  28. — We  had  a  dull  missionary 
sermon  at  church,  in  which  the  clergyman  spoke  of 
the  poor  Bishop  of  Winchester's  death  as  if  it  was 
a  judgment  for  his  crimes.  After  service  Lady 
Airlie  talked  of  the  '  Memorials,'  which  she  discussed 
as  we  walked  round  the  lake.  She  spoke  much  of 
prevailing  religious  opinions,  and  said  that  it  would 
be  as  difficult  to  believe  in  complete  inspiration  now 
as  to  believe  in  witchcraft.  I  startled  her  by  telling 
her  I  did  believe  in  witchcraft,  and  told  something 
of  Madame  de  Trafford.  In  the  afternoon  we  drove 
with  Lord  Stanhope  to  Knockholt  Beeches  and  back 
by  the  steep  park  drive.  The  country  was  quite 
lovely.    Lord  Stanhope  entertained  us  constantly  with 


128 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1873 


that  essence  of  courtesy  and  good-breeding  which 
almost  makes  you  feel  as  if  you  were  the  entertainer 
and  the  obhging,  instead  of  the  entertained  and  the 
obliged — indeed  such  perfection  of  courteous  kindness 
I  have  never  seen  elsewhere  in  any  one.  I  walked 
with  Lady  Airlie  up  to  the  beeches,  and  she  talked 
of  Lady  Waterford,  whom,  she  said,  she  worshipped 
afar  off,  as  I  did  nearer.'' 

July  29. — A  long  talk  about  art  and  drawing  and 
Italy  with  old  Mr.  Cheney,  who  said,  speaking  of  the 
best  buildings,  'They  are  much  too  good  for  this 
generation :  it  will  destroy  them  because  they  are  so 
beautiful.'  He  is  so  pleasant  that  I  could  understand 
a  bit  of  a  dialogue  I  overheard  between  him  and 
Lady  Airlie. 

Lady  A, — 'I  am  so  sorry  Englishwomen  are  not 
like  French  :  they  have  not  always  le  desir  de plaire.^ 

Mr.  C. — 'Well  I  confess  I  always  like  English- 
women best,  and  even  their  manners  seem  to  me  far 
more  charming.' 

Lady  A. — 'Oh,  yes;  I  can  quite  understand  that 
all  must  have  le  desir  de  plaire  when  they  are  near 
you^ 

"  I  walked  with  Mahon  in  the  gardens  and  up  the 
hill,  crushing  the  wild  thyme  and  sweet  marjory,  and 
then  drove  with  Lord  Stanhope,  a  long  charming 
drive  up  the  Brasted  hill,  by  poor  Vine's  Gate  and 
Chartwell,  both  of  many  associations.  He  stopped 
the  carriage  to  have  some  foxgloves  gathered,  and 
said  how  the  name  pleased  him,  for  the  plant  was 
the  fairies'  own  special  flower,  and  the  name  came 


i873] 


IN   MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


from  folks^  love.  He  would  only  have  one  great  stem 
of  each  foxglove  gathered,  the  rest  must  be  left  for 
the  fairies.  Lord  Stanhope  told  me  that  when  he 
took  Macaulay  up  that  hill  he  looked  long  at  the  view 
and  then  said,  ^  How  evident  it  is  that  there  has 
never  been,  can  never  have  been,  an  invasion  here : 
no  other  country  could  supply  this  view/ 

Lord  Stanhope  talked  much  of  the  poet  Claudian, 
so  superior  to  Statins — his  descriptions  so  picturesque, 
especially  that  of  an  old  man  who  had  never  been 
outside  the  walls  of  his  native  city,  and  how  they 
took  him  out  in  his  extreme  old  age,  and  of  all  that 
he  said,  &c." 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Hohihurstj  Sept.  lO,  1873. — I  enjoy  your  detailed 
letters.  In  them  a  breeze  from  the  outer  world 
sweeps  in  upon  my  solitude.  Not  that  it  is  quite  soli- 
tude either,  for  Charlotte  Leycester  is  still  here,  and 
Fanny  Tatton  is  at  Hastings,  and  often  coming  up 
to  luncheon,  and  Miss  Cole  has  been  here  for  ten 
days,  and  her  sister  Louisa  for  three.  Both  these 
old  friends  are  most  pleasant  and  charming,  and  I 
was  very  glad  to  receive  here  again  those  whom  the 
dear  Mother  was  so  fond  of  seeing  in  her  little  home. 
And  we  talked  much  of  her,  they  so  truly  feeling  all 
that  she  was,  that  it  is  as  if  a  fragrance  out  of  her 
beautiful  past  was  hallowing  their  lives. 

The  little  Hospice  has  been  full  all  summer.  The 
present  inmates  are  most  romantic  in  title  as  well  as 
dress — ^  Sister  Georgina  Mary,  Sister  Mildred,  and 

VOL.  IV.  I 


I30 


THE   STORY    OF    MY  LIFE 


[1873 


Sister  Lilian.'  They  come  from  St.  Alban's,  Holborn, 
so  you  may  imagine  that  Charlotte  Leycester  has 
already  had  some  passages  at  arms  with  them.  But 
they  are  truly  excellent  as  well  as  pleasant  guests, 
and  I  console  Charlotte  by  telling  her  that  if  she  likes 
to  supply  me  with  any  suffering  Methodists  when  they 
are  gone,  I  shall  be  equally  glad  to  see  them.  Certainly, 


THE  HOSPICE,  HOLMHURST. 

the  only  real  pleasure  in  having  any  money  is  the 
opportunities  it  gives. 

Admirable,  holy,  saint-like,  as  I  think  dear  Char- 
lotte Leycester,  her  Sabbatarianism  is  a  sore  small  trial 
to  me  when  she  lives  with  me  for  months.  I  love 
her  most  dearly,  but  I  often  long  to  say  to  her  some- 
thing like  the  words  of  Bussy  -  Rabutin,  '  Souvent  on 


1873] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


arrive  a  la  mcme  fin  par  differentes  voies  :  pour  moi, 
je  ne  condamne  pas  vos  manieres,  chacun  se  sauve 
a  sa  guise ;  mais  je  n'irai  point  a  la  beatitude  par  le 
chemin  que  vous  suivez.' " 

To  Miss  Leyc ester. 

Holmhurst,  Sept.  19,  1873. — Yesterday  I  took 
Hugh  Pearson  ^  to  Hurstmonceaux.  The  walk  through 
the  wild  ferny  park  and  its  decaying  beeches  was  most 
delightful,  with  the  softest  lights  and  shadows  glinting 
over  the  delicate  distances  of  the  Levels.  What  a 
place  of  memories  it  is  !  every  tree,  every  pathlet  with 
the  reminiscences  of  so  many  generations." 

Journal. 

Sept.  30. — I  came  to  Binstead  Wyck  2  from  Thorn- 
hill.  It  is  a  charming  family  home  on  the  edge  of  a 
deep  declivity,  with  wide  views  into  the  purple  hollows 
between  the  beech-trees.  From  the  windows  we  could 
see  Blackmoor,  whither  we  went  the  next  day — the  great 
modern  mediaeval  house  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  Sel- 
borne,  set  down,  as  it  were,  anywhere  in  an  utterly  inex- 
pressive part  of  his  large  low-lying  property,  but  with 
pleasant  Scotchified  views  of  heath  and  fir  plantations. 
The  Chancellor,  pleasant  and  beaming,  was  kind.  Lady 
Selborne  very  nice,  and  the  four  daughters  charming. 
The  next  day  we  went  to  'White's  Selborne,'  through 
bowery  lanes,  where  the  hedges  are  all  bound  together 

^  Rev.  Hugh  Pearson,  Rector  of  wSonning. 

^  The  house  of  William  Wickham,  who  married  my  cousin  Sophia 
Lefevre. 


132 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1873 


by  clematis.  It  is  a  beautiful  village,  just  under  a 
wooded  hill  called  'the  Hanger.'  The  old  house  of 
Gilbert  White  is  now  inhabited  by  a  striking  old  man, 
Mr.  Bell,  a  retired  dentist,  the  beneficence,  the  '  Bon 
Dieu,'  of  the  neighbourhood.  He  showed  us  his  lovely 
sunny  lawn,  with  curious  trees  and  shrubs,  sloping  up 
to  the  rich  wooded  hillside,  and,  in  the  house,  the 
stick,  barometer,  and  spectacles  of  Gilbert  White. 

The  adjoining  property  belonged  to  Sir  Charles 
Taylor.  His  father  was  a  fine  old  man,  and  some  of 
his  jokes  are  still  quoted. 

'''How  are  you,  sir?  I  hope  you  are  quite  well,' 
said  a  young  man  who  came  on  a  visit. 

"'  Wellj  sir!  I  am  suffering  from  a  mortal  disease.' 

"  '  A  mortal  disease  !  and  pray  what  may  that  be  ?  ' 
said  the  young  man,  aghast. 

"  '  Why,  I  am  suffering,  sir,  from — Anno  Domini.' 

"  Close  to  Selborne  we  saw  the  source  of  the  Wey — 
a  pretty  spring  tumbling  over  a  rock  near  the  road." 

"  Oct.  4-10. — A  charming  visit  at  Shavington, 
the  great  desolate  brick  house  of  Lord  Kilmorey.^  It 
has  very  little  furniture,  but  some  fine  pictures,  the 
best  of  them,  by  Gainsborough,  representing  an  Hon. 
Francis  Needham  of  the  Grenadier  Guards,  who  was 
poisoned  at  a  magistrates'  dinner  at  Salthill  in  1773. 
Lady  Fanny  Higginson  ^  talked  much  of  their  old 
neighbours  the   Corbets   of  Adderley :   how,  when 

^  In  1884  this  fine  old  property  of  the  Needhams  was  sold  to  A.  P. 
Heywood  Lonsdale,  Esq.  (now  Heywood),  who  is  also  owner  of  the 
neighbouring  estate  of  Cloverly. 

2  This  old  friend  of  my  childhood  died  Dec.  1890,  in  her  99th  year. 


1873] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


Lady  Corbet  was  a  child,  she  squinted  very  much, 
and  how  Dr.  Johnson,  when  she  was  introduced  to 
him,  said,  '  Come  here,  you  httle  Squintifinko  * — which 
gave  her  the  greatest  horror  of  him.  When  the 
family  doctor  called  at  Adderley,  it  was  generally  just 
before  dinner,  and  Lady  Corbet  used  to  ask  him  to 
stay  for  it,  and  he  found  this  so  pleasant  that  he 
came  very  often  in  this  way,  merely  for  the  sake  of 
the  dinner ;  but  when  his  bill  came  in,  she  found  all 
these  visits  charged  like  the  others.  She  returned 
it  to  him  with  his  visits  divided  into  two  columns, 
one  headed  '  Official'  and  the  other  ^  Officious, '  and 
she  always  afterwards  spoke  of  him  as  '  the  officious 
official." 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Ford  Castle  J  Oct.  18,  1873. — The  long  journey 
and  the  bitterly  cold  drive  across  the  moors  from 
Belford  almost  made  me  think  before  arriving  that 
absence  must  have  exaggerated  the  charms  of  this 
place ;  but  the  kind  welcome  of  the  hostess  in  the 
warm  library,  brilliant  with  flowers  and  colour,  soon 
dispelled  all  that.  There  is  only  a  small  party  here, 
what  Lady  Waterford  calls  2.  pension  des  demoiselles — 
the  two  Miss  Lindsays  (Lady  Sarah's  daughters),  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Fairholme,  Lady  Taunton  and  her  daughter, 
and  Lady  Gertrude  Talbot.  All  are  fond  of  art  and 
not  unworthy  of  the  place. 

I  should  like  you  to  see  it.  No  description  gives 
any  idea,  not  so  much  of  the  beautiful  old  towers, 
the  brilliant  fiower-beds  in  the  embrasures  of  the 


134  THE   STORY    OF   MY  LIFE  [1873 

wall,  the  deep  glen  of  old  beeches,  the  village  cluster- 
ing round  its  tall  fountain,  and  the  soft  colouring 
of  the  Cheviots  and  Flodden, — as  of  the  wonderful 
atmosphere  of  goodness  and  love  which  binds  all 
the  people,  the  servants,  the  guests,  so  unconsciously 
around  the  beautiful  central  figure  in  this  great  home. 
Each  cottage  garden  is  a  replica — the  tiniest  replica — 
of  Lady  Waterford's  own,  equally  cared  for  by  her ; 
each  village  child  nestles  up  to  her  as  she  appears, 
the  very  tiny  ones  for  the  sugar-plums  which  she  puts 
into  their  pockets,  the  elders  to  tell  her  everything 
as  to  a  mother.  And  within  the  house,  everything 
is  at  once  so  simple  and  so  beautiful,  every  passage 
full  of  pictures,  huge  ferns,  brilliant  geraniums,  tall 
vases,  &c.  In  the  evening  Lady  Waterford  sings  as 
delightfully  as  ever,  and  in  all  the  intervals  talks  as 
no  one  else  can — such  exquisite  stories  of  olden  times, 
such  poetical  descriptions  of  scenery,  and  all  so  truth- 
inspiring  because  so  wonderfully  simple."  ^ 

Oct.  19. — You  will  never  guess  what  I  was  doing 
yesterday — preaching  to  the  children  ! 

In  the  morning,  to  my  great  surprise,  Mr.  Neville, 
the  clergyman,  came  while  Lady  Waterford  was  at 
the  school,  to  say  he  had  no  help  that  day :  would  I 
help  him  ?  There  was  a  service  for  children  in  the 
church  :  would  I  undertake  the  sermon  part  ?  I  thought 
it  quite  impossible,  and  utterly  refused  at  first,  only 
promising  to  read  the  Morning  Lessons.    However,  in 

^  "  Andrew,  she  has  a  face  looks  like  a  story, 
The  story  of  the  heavens  looks  very  like  her." 

Beaumont  and  Fi.etciier,  The  Elder  Brother. 


1873]  IN    MY  SOLITARY   LIFE  I  35 

the  afternoon,  when  I  found  it  was  not  only  wished 
but  zvantedj  I  consented.  I  took  one  of  Neale's  Ser- 
mons as  a  foundation,  and  then  discoursed — half  story, 
half  sermon ;  the  story  being  of  the  departure  of  the 
swallows  from  Etal  and  Ford  and  Flodden  at  this 
time  of  year ;  the  training  from  their  parents — so  much 
depending  upon  whether  they  attended  or  not,  whether 
they  practised  their  wings  in  preparation  for  the 
long  journey  or  were  idle ;  then  of  the  temptations 
they  had  to  idleness,  &c. ;  of  the  journey,  the  crossing 
the  sea  (of  death  in  the  moral),  of  the  difficulty  of 
crossing  alone,  of  the  clinging  of  some  to  the  mast  of 
a  ship  (the  Saviour),  which  bore  them  through  the 
difficulties.  I  was  dreadfully  alarmed  at  the  idea,  but, 
having  once  begun,  had  no  difficulty  whatever,  and  it 
all  came  quite  fluently  without  any  seeking,  though 
beforehand  I  could  think  of  nothing  to  say ;  so  that 
Lady  Waterford  said  the  only  fault  the  children  would 
find  was  that  it  was  so  much  longer  than  their  usual 
sermons.  There  was  a  great  congregation  of  children, 
and  all  the  guests  in  the  house,  and  many  of  the 
servants.'' 

Journal. 

Oct.  16. — Mrs.  Fairholme  talked  of  her  visit  to 
Jedburgh — that  she  had  said  to  the  old  man  who 
showed  it,  ^  Do  you  know,  I  admire  your  abbey  a 
great  deal  more  than  Melrose.' — ^Yes,'  he  said,  'there 
is  no  doubt  it  is  a  great  deal  the  finer ;  but  then  you 
know,  Ma'am,  Sir  Walter  has  cast  such  a  halloo  over 
Melrose  that  it  has  thrown  everything  else  into  the 
shade.'" 


136 


THE    STORY    OF    MY  LIFE 


Oct.  17. — Mrs.  Fairholme  brought  down  a  beauti- 
ful miniature  of  an  unknown  lady  to  breakfast,  which 
was  the  subject  of  much  discussion.  Lady  Waterford 
said  how  she  had  designed  a  series  of  drawings  for 
the  whole  '  Story  of  a  Picture.' 

1.  A  Louis  XIV.  beauty  sitting  to  a  painter,  with 
all  her  adorers — a  whole  troop  of  them — behind  her, 
quite  beautiful,  radiant,  and  vain-glorious. 

2.  The  portrait  hanging  in  the  room  in  another 
generation. 

3.  A  young  girl  d  V Empire^  with  her  waist  in  her 
mouth,  waving  her  hand  towards  the  portrait,  and 
telling  the  servant  to  take  that  ugly  old  picture  up  to 
the  garret. 

'^4.  Boys  in  the  garret  shooting  at  the  old  picture 
as  a  target. 

^  Do  you  know,'  said  Lady  Waterford  to-day,  '  that 
Jane  Ellice  has  got  one  convert  to  her  teetotalism ; 
and  do  you  know  who  that  is  ?  That  is  me.  I  have 
not  touched  wine  for  six  months.  I  think  it  is  good 
for  the  household.  The}^  used  to  say,  if  they  saw  me 
as  strong  as  a  horse,  '^Ah!  there,  look  at  my  lady; 
it  is  true  she  is  as  strong  as  a  horse,  but  then  she 
always  has  all  the  wine  she  wants,"  but  now  they 
say,  My  lady  has  no  wine  at  all,  and  yet  you  see 
she  is  as  strong  as  a  horse." ' 

Mrs.  Fairholme  spoke  of  Curramore,  and  how 
she  disliked  somebody  who  pretended  that  the  beau- 
tiful terraces  there  were  designed  by  herself  and  not 
by  Lady  Waterford.  With  her  generous  simplicity. 
Lady  Waterford  said,  ^  Oh,  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  do  that  at  all :  I  think  it  was  rather  a  com- 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


pliment,  for  it  showed  she  admired  the  terraces,  or 
she  would  not  have  wished  it  to  be  supposed  that 
they  were  due  to  her/ 

Miss  Fairholme  was  tired.  ^  Now  do  rest/  Lady 
Waterford  said — ^  there  is  the  sofa  close  by  you — 
qui  vous  tend  les  bras ; '  and  then  she  talked  to  us 
of  old  Lady  Balcarres,  '  the  mother  of  Grandmama 
Hardwicke  ^ — the  severe  mother,  who,  when  one  of 
her  little  boys  disobeyed  her,  ordered  the  servants 
to  fling  him  into  the  pond  in  front  of  the  house.  He 
managed  to  scramble  out  again ;  she  bade  them  throw 
him  in  a  second  time,  and  a  second  time  he  got  out, 
and,  when  she  ordered  it  a  third  time,  he  exclaimed 
in  his  broad  Scotch  accent,  ^  Woman,  wad  ye  droun 
yer  ain  son  ?  ' 

In  the  afternoon  we  were  to  have  gone  to  the 
Heathpool  Lynn,  but  did  go  to  Langley  Ford  by 
mistake — a  very  long  walk,  after  leaving  the  carriage, 
up  a  bleak  moorland  valley.  I  walked  chiefly  with 
Miss  Lindsay.  She  talked  of  the  extraordinary  dis- 
covery of  the  well  at  Castle  Hedingham  by  'a  wise 
woman '  by  the  power  of  the  hazel  wand — the  hazel 
twig  bending  on  the  right  spot,  not  onl}^  upon  the 
ground  itself,  but  upon  the  representation  of  it  on 
the  map.  She  talked  of  the  bhnd  and  dumb  Sab- 
batarianism of  the  Presbyterians.  She  asked  a  respect- 
able poor  woman  how  she  liked  the  new  preacher. 
^  Wad  I  presume  ?  '  she  replied." 

Oct.  18. — This  morning  Lady  Waterford  wished 
that  the  Misses  Lindsay  had  been  dressed  ahke  even 
in  details.    '  It  is  a  law  of  nature,  I  think,  that  sisters 


138  THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE  [1873 

should  dress  alike.  A  covey  of  partridges  are  all 
alike ;  they  do  not  want  to  have  feathers  of  dif- 
ferent colours ;  and  why  not  children  of  the  same 
family  ?  ' 

We  had  a  charming  walk  to  Etal  in  the  afternoon 
— lovely  soft  lights  on  the  distant  hills,  and  brilliant 
reflections  of  the  autumnal  foliage  in  the  Till.  We 
went  to  the  castle,  and  then  down  the  glen  by  St. 


LANGLEY  FORD,  IN  THE  CHEVIOTS. 1 

Mary's  Oratory  and  Well.  Lady  W.  talked  of  the 
beauty  of  the  sedges  and  of  their  great  variety — of 
the  difficult  law,  or  rather  no  law,  of  reflections.  Then 
of  marriages — of  the  number  of  widows  being  so  much 
greater  than  that  of  widowers,  and  of  the  change 
which  the  loss  of  a  husband  made  in  all  the  smallest 
details  of  life :  of  the  supreme  desolation  of  Lady 

^  From  "  The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


1873] 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


Charlotte  Denison,  'after  a  honeymoon  of  forty-three 
years/  Old  Lady  Tankerville  was  of  another  nature. 
She  was  urging  a  widowed  friend  to  do  something. 
'  Oh,  but  my  cap,  my  cap !  '  groaned  the  friend. 
'  Comment,'  exclaimed  Lady  Tankerville,  '  c'est  le  vrai 
bonnet  de  la  liberte.' 

Speaking  of  complexions — '  My  grandmother  used 
to  say,'  said  Mrs.  Fairholme,  Hhat  beauty  ''went  out" 
with  open  carriages.  "  Why,  you  are  just  like  men, 
my  dear,"  she  said,  ''  with  your  brown  necks,  and  your 
rough  skins,  and  your  red  noses.  In  our  days  it  was 
different ;  young  ladies  never  walked,  ate  nothing  but 
white  meat,  and  never  washed  their  faces.  They 
covered  their  faces  with  powder,  and  then  put  cold 
cream  on,  and  wiped  it  off  with  a  flannel:  that  was 
the  way  to  have  a  good  complexion.  ' " 

"'I  think  it  was  Henri  III.,' said  Lady  Waterford, 
'  who  used  to  go  to  sleep  with  raw  veal  chops  on  his 
cheeks,  and  to  cover  his  hands  with  pomade,  and  have 
them  tied  up  to  the  top  of  the  bed  by  silk  cords,  that 
they  might  be  white  in  the  morning.' " 

Oct.  21. — Lady  Waterford  talked  of  her  maid 
Rebekah,  who  lived  with  her  so  long.  'The  mistake 
was  that  we  were  together  as  girls  and  used  to  romp 
together ;  and  so,  when  I  married,  she  thought  she 
was  to  rule  me.  But  she  became  the  most  dreadful 
tyrant :  Tina  used  to  say  I  wore  her  as  a  hair- 
shirt.'  " 

"  Oct.  23. — Lady  Waterford  talked  of  '  Grandmama 
Hardwicke ' — how  terrified  she  was  of  robbers  :  that 


140  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1873 

one  day,  when  she  was  going  to  cross  a  wide  heathy 
common,  she  said,  ^  If  any  one  comes  up  to  the 
carriage,  I  shall  give  up  all  I  have  at  once :  I  shall 
give  him  no  chance  of  being  violent.'  Soon  after,  a 
man  rode  up.  ^  Oh,  take  my  money,  but  spare  my  life,' 
exclaimed  Lady  Hardwicke,  and  threw  her  purse  at 
him.  'My  good  woman,  I  don't  want  your  purse,' 
said  the  man,  who  was  a  harmless  traveller." 

Oct.  24. — Lord  Houghton  arrived.  He  is  rather 
crusty,  but  most  amusing.  His  conversation  is  always 
interesting,  even  when  no  one  else  can  speak,  and  he 
seems  to  be  saying,  with  Sydney  Smith,  to  the  art 
circle  here — '  My  dears,  it's  all  right ;  you  keep  with 
the  dilettanti :  I  go  with  the  talkettanti.'  He  talked 
of  Alnwick.  '  It  was  there  I  first  met  Pere  Hyacinthe. 
He  did  not  strike  me  as  anything  remarkable.  One 
evening  he  gave  us  a  Meditation."  It  was  just  a 
faUing  into  a  topic  and  going  on  upon  it ;  but  nothing 
original  or  particular.  I  heard  his  sermons  at  Rome. 
He  used  to  say  a  thing  and  then  back  out  of  it ;  but 
under  the  pulpit  sat  three  Inquisitors,  and  they  were 
finding  him  out  all  the  time.  One  thing  he  said — 
speaking  of  religious  differences — was,  *^  N'oublions 
jamais  que  le  premier  crime  du  monde  etait  une  querelle 
entre  deux  sacerdos.' " 

''Lord  Houghton  talked  of  the  Bonapartes,  and  of 
the  graves  of  Josephine  and  Hortense  at  Rueil,  and 
of  Madame  Mere.  '  I  had  a  very  narrow  miss  of 
seeing  Madame  Mere,  and  I  am  very  sorry  I  did  not  do 
it,  for  it  would  only  have  cost  a  scudo.  She  was  a 
very  long  time  dying,  it  was  a  kind  of  lying  in  state. 


1873] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


141 


and  for  a  scudo  the  porter  used  to  let  people  in  behind 
a  screen  which  there  was  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
they  looked  at  her  through  the  joinings.  I  was  only 
a  boy  then,  and  I  thought  there  was  plenty  of  time, 
and  put  it  off ;  but  one  day  she  died." 
'^Lord  Houghton  also  said — 
^  One  of  the  prettiest  ghost  stories  I  ever  heard  is 
that  of  General  Radowitz.  He  was  made  Governor 
of  Frankfort,  and  not  being  able  to  go  himself,  and 
having  servants  who  had  lived  with  him  a  long  time 
and  knew  all  his  tastes,  he  sent  them  on  before  him 
to  secure  a  suitable  house  and  get  everything  ready. 
They  chose  an  excellent  house,  with  a  large  garden 
full  of  lilacs  and  laburnums,  overlooking  the  glacis. 
When  General  and  Madame  Radowitz  arrived  some  time 
after,  they  found  everything  as  they  wished,  and  began 
to  question  their  old  servants  as  to  how  they  had  got 
on,  and  especially  as  to  the  neighbours.  The  servants 
said  that  the  next  villa  was  inhabited  by  a  person  who 
was  quite  remarkable — a  lady  who  was  always  known 
in  Frankfort  as  the  ^^weisse  Frau," — a  very  sweet, 
gentle  person,  who  was  full  of  charity  and  kindness, 
and  greatly  beloved.  She  had,  however,  quite  lost  her 
memory  as  to  the  past  since  the  death,  very  long  ago, 
of  her  lover  in  battle :  she  had  even  forgotten  his 
name,  and  answered  to  all  questions  about  him  or 
her  own  past,  ^*  Ich  weiss  nicht !  ich  weiss  nicht !  " 
but  always  with  a  sweet  sad  smile.  And  she  had 
Hved  in  the  place  so  long,  that,  every  one  belonging 
to  her  having  passed  away,  no  one  really  knew 
her  history.  Yet,  while  her  mind  was  gone  as  to 
the  past,  as  to  the  practical  present  she  was  quite 


142 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


herself,  went  to  market  and  transacted  her  own 
affairs. 

'  Gradually  the  confidential  maid  of  Madame 
Radowitz  made  friends  with  the  servants  of  the 
weisse  Frau  — for  the  gardens  of  the  two  houses 
joined — and  from  servants'  gossip  the  Radowitz  family 
learnt  a  good  deal  about  her,  and  from  all  around  they 
heard  of  her  as  greatly  respected,  but  always  the  same, 
sad  and  sweet,  always  dressed  in  white,  never  remem- 
bering anything. 

'  One  day  the  weisse  Frau,"  who  had  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  the  maid  of  Madame  Radowitz,  invited  her 
to  come  to  her  at  twelve  o'clock  the  next  day :  she  said 
she  expected  some  one ;  indeed,  she  pressed  the  maid 
to  come  without  fail.  The  maid  told  her  mistress, 
who  said  certainly  she  had  better  go ;  she  should  on 
no  account  wish  so  excellent  a  person  as  the  weisse 
Frau  "  to  be  disappointed. 

'^'When  the  maid  went,  she  found  the  little  salon 
of  the  weisse  Frau ''  in  gala  decoration,  the  table  laid 
and  bright  with  flowers,  and  places  set  for  three.  The 
Frau  was  not  in  her  usual  white  dress,  but  in  a  curious 
old  costume  of  rich  brocade,  which  was  said  to  have 
been  intended  for  her  wedding-dress.  She  still  said 
she  expected  some  one,  but  when  asked  who  it  was, 
looked  distressed  and  bewildered,  and  only  said  Ich 
w^eiss  nicht ! " 

^  As  it  drew  near  twelve  o'clock  she  became  greatly 
agitated — she  said  he  was  coming.  At  length  she 
threw  the  windows  wide  open,  and  gazing  out  into 
the  street,  looked  back  and  said,  Er  kommt !  er 
kommt !  "    She  had  a  radiant  expression  no  one  re- 


1 873] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


membered  to  have  seen  before ;  her  eyes  sparkled, 
every  feature  became  animated — and  as  the  clock 
struck  twelve,  she  went  out  upon  the  landing,  appeared 
to  enfold  some  one  invisible  in  her  arms,  and  then 
walking  very  slowly  back  into  the  room,  exclaimed 
Hoffmann,'^  and  sank  down  dead  ! 

'  In  the  supreme  moment  of  life  she  had  remembered 
the  long-forgotten  name.' 

^'On  Wednesday  Lady  Waterford  took  her  books 
and  drawing,  and  went  to  the  forge  to  spend  the 
afternoon  with  ^  Frizzle  * — a  poor  bedridden  woman 
there,  to  whom  thus^  not  by  a  rapid  visit,  she  brings 
enough  sunshine  and  pleasure  once  every  week  to 
last  for  the  other  six  days.  Often  she  sings  by  the 
bedside,  not  only  hymns,  but  a  whole  variety  of  things. 
I  drove  Mrs.  Fairholme  to  the  Routing  Lynn,  and 
we  came  in  for  one  of  the  fiercest  storms  I  ever 
knew ;  not  rain  or  snow,  but  lumps  of  ice,  an  inch 
and  a  half  long,  blowing  straight  upon  us  from  the 
Cheviots.  Lady  Waterford  came  in  delighted.  '  I 
do  enjoy  a  difficult  walk.  When  it  is  winter,  and 
the  ground  is  deep  in  snow  and  the  wind  blowing 
hard,  I  steal  out  and  take  a  walk  and  enjoy  it.  I  try 
to  steal  out  unobserved ;  I  do  not  like  the  servants 
to  get  into  a  state  about  me,  but  I  am  generally 
betrayed  afterwards  by  a  wet  petticoat  or  something.' 

Oct.  25. — Last  night  Lord  Houghton  talked  much 
about  Mrs.  Harcourt's  diaries,  which  he  had  edited 
(she  was  lady  in  waiting  to  Queen  Charlotte),  but 
the  royal  family  had  cut  out  so  much  as  to  make 


144 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


them  not  worth  publishing.  When  the  poor  Princesses 
heard  of  another  German  prince  marrying,  they  used 
to  say  in  a  despairing  tone,  ^Another  chance  lost.' 

'^At  Weymouth,  Mrs.  Harcourt  described  going  to 
see  the  royal  family  in  the  evening.  '  I  ventured,' 
she  said,  ^  to  express  my  regret  that  the  Queen  should 
have  had  so  unfavourable  a  morning  for  her  water 
expedition,'  whereat  Prince  WilHam  somewhat  coarsely 
replied,  ^  I  only  wish  the  accursed  bitch  would  have 
spewed  her  soul  up,  and  then  we  should  have  had  some 
peace  in  the  house.' 

The  Duke  of  York  was  the  only  one  of  his  sons 
the  King  really  cared  for,  and  he  said  that  the  Duke's 
faults  were  the  cause  of  his  madness. 

'^This  morning,  before  leaving.  Lord  Houghton 
talked  of  Howick,  that  he  thought  it  a  very  dull  place, 
while  Lady  Waterford  and  I  maintained  that  it  was 
a  most  pleasant,  attractive  family  home.  He  said  the 
Greys  were  very  self-important  but  not  conceited : 
that  he  agreed  with  Charles  Buller,  who  said,  'No, 
the  Greys  are  certainly  not  conceited :  they  only 
demand  of  you  that  you  should  concede  the  absolute 
truth  of  one  single  proposition,  which  is,  that  it  has 
pleased  Providence  in  its  inscrutable  wisdom  to  endow 
one  family  with  every  conceivable  virtue  and  talent, 
and,  this  once  conceded,  the  Greys  are  really  rather 
humble  than  otherwise,  because  they  feel  they  do  not 
come  up  to  their  opportunities.' 

He  said,  '  It  is  very  interesting  to  remember  that 
all  the  beasts  are  Saxon,  but  when  they  become  meat 
they  become  Norman.' 


1 873] 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


145 


To  Mlss  Wright. 

Raby  Castle,  Oct.  31,  1873. — My  visit  here  has 
been  very  pleasant,  the  Duchess  cordial,  and  a  de- 
lightful party.  It  includes  Count  Beust,  the  Austrian 
Ambassador,  the  Duchess  of  Bedford  and  Lady  Ela, 
Sir  James  and  Lady  Colville,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leo  Ellis, 
Mr.  Doyle,  Mr.  Burke,  Lady  Chesham  and  her  daughter. 
Lord  and  Lady  Boyne,  Lord  Napier  and  his  son,  Henry 
Cowper  (most  amusing),  Mr.  Duncombe  Shafto,  and 
several  others ;  but  my  chief  pleasure  has  been  making 
friends  with  young  Lord  Grimston,  whom  I  think  out 
and  out  one  of  the  very  nicest  fellows  I  ever  met." 

Journal. 

Raby  Castle,  Nov.  i. — The  first  morning  I  was 
here,  as  I  was  walking  on  the  terraced  platform  of 
the  castle  with  Lady  Chesham,  she  talked  of  the  silent 
Cavendishes,  and  said  it  was  supposed  to  be  the  result 
of  their  ancestor's  marriage  with  Rachel,  Lady  Russell's 
daughter ;  that  after  her  father's  death  she  had  always 
been  silent  and  sad,  and  that  her  descendants  had  been 
silent  and  sad  ever  since.  ^  Lord  Carlisle  and  his 
brother  were  also  silent.  Once  they  travelled  abroad 
together,  and  at  an  inn  in  Germany  slept  in  the  same 
room,  in  which  there  was  also  a  third  bed  with  the 
curtains  drawn  round  it.  Two  days  after,  one  brother 
said  to  the  other,  Did  you  see  what  was  in  that  bed 
in  our  room  the  other  night  ?  ^'  and  the  other  answered, 
Yes.'*  This  was  all  that  passed,  but  they  had  both 
seen  a  dead  body  in  the  bed.' 

''The  Duchess  expects  every  one  to  devote  them- 

VOL.  IV,  K 


146  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [^873 

selves  to  petits  jeux  in  the  evening,  and  many  of  the 
guests  do  not  Hke  it.  There  is  also  a  book  in  which 
every  one  is  expected  to  write  something  when  they 
go  away.  There  is  one  column  for  complaints :  you 
are  intended  to  complain  that  your  happy  visit  has 


KABY  CASTLE. 

come  to  an  end,  or  something  of  that  kind.  There  is 
another  column  of  ^  Why  you  came ' — to  which  the 
natural  answer  seems  to  be  '  Because  I  was  asked.' 
Some  one  wrote^ — 


'  To  see  their  Graces 
And  to  kill  their  grouses,' 


1 873] 


IN    MY    SOLITARY  LIFE 


I  have,  however,  really  enjoyed  my  visit  very  much 
indeed,  and  on  taking  leave  just  now  I  wrote — 

'  In  the  desert  of  life,  so  dismal  and  wide, 
A  charming  oasis  is  sometimes  descried, 
Where  none  are  afraid  their  true  feelings  to  own. 
And  wit  never  takes  a  satirical  tone  ; 
Where  new  roots  of  affection  are  planted  each  hour, 
By  courtesy,  kindness,  and  magical  power  ; 
Where  fresh  friendships  are  formed,  and  destined  to  last, 
In  a  golden  chain  fettered  and  rivetted  fast. 
Such  a  garden  is  Raby  : — those  who  gather  its  flowers, 
In  grateful  remembrance  will  think  of  the  hours 
Which,  enjoyed,  do  not  vanish,  but  seem  to  display 
In  riplets  of  silver  the  wake  of  their  way.' 

''One  evening  I  told  a  story,  unfortunately;  for  if 
I  ever  afterwards  escaped  to  my  room  after  five 
o'clock,  there  came  a  tap  and  a  servant — '  Their  Graces 
want  you  to  come  down  again  ' — always  from  their 
insatiable  love  of  stories." 

Nov.  7,  1873,  Bretton, — After  three  days  with 
the  dear  cousins  at  Ravensworth,  I  am  glad  to  find 
myself  again  in  this  pleasant  house,  where  I  have 
been  rapturously  welcomed  by  the  children,  especially 
by  Httle  Hubert.  I  have  found  the  Motleys  here. 
He  is  very  agreeable;  and  the  daughters,  especially 
Mrs.  Ives,^  to  whom  her  husband  left  ^6000  a  year 
after  one  month  of  married  life,  are  very  pleasant. 
Motley  was  shut  up  for  a  long  time  in  his  room  the 
other  day,  and  when  he  came  in  announced  that  he 
had  just  finished  the  preface  (which  was  the  winding 

^  Afterwards  Lady  Harcourt. 


148 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1873 


up)  of  his  new  book.  All  the  other  ladies  began  ful- 
some compliments,  but  Miss  Susie  Motley,  jumping 
up  and  throwing  her  arms  round  his  neck,  exclaimed, 
'  Oh,  you  dear  foolish  old  thing,  how  could  you  go  and 
spend  so  much  time  over  what  you  may  be  quite  sure 
nobody  will  ever  read?  ^    Lady  Margaret  has  just  said — 

'''Now,  Mr.  Hare,  what  do  you  do  with  your 
eyes  (^'^s)  ? ' 

'"  Dot  them.' 

" '  Then  why  don't  I  dot  mine  ?    Now  there  is  an 
opportunity  for  you  to  make  a  pretty  speech.' 
"  '  I  don't  know  how.' 

"  '  Why,  how  stupid  you  are !  Because  they  are 
capital  eyes  (i's).  And  now,  having  provided  thus 
much  food  for  your  mind,  I  will  go  and  look  after 
your  body  by  ordering  the  dinner.' 

"  I  was  very  sorry  to  leave  the  happy  cordial  party 
at  Ravensworth  of  eleven  young  cousins,  most  easy 
to  get  on  with  certainly,  though  I  had  never  seen 
some  of  them  before.  But,  directly  I  arrived,  one 
of  them  came  forward  and  said,  '  Please  remember, 
Augustus,  that  my  name  is  only  Nellie,  and  my  sisters 
are  Har  and  Pem  and  Vicky,  and  my  cousins  are,'  &c. 
At  Lamesley  Church  we  had  the  oddest  sermon, 
with  such  sentences  as — '  Our  first  father  would 
insist  upon  eating  sour  fruit,  and  has  set  all  his 
descendants'  teeth  on  edge  ever  since.' 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Highclere  Castle^  Nov.  12,  1873. — This  is  a 
beautiful  park,  with  every  variety  of  scenery,  hill. 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


T49 


valley,  woods,  with  an  undergrowth  of  rhododendron, 
a  poetical  lake !  and  is  so  immense — thirteen  miles 
round — that  one  never  goes  out  of  it,  and  rather  feels 
the  isolation  of  the  great  house  in  the  centre,  which, 
though  very  handsome,  is  not  equal  to  the  place. 
Lady  Carnarvon  is  very  lovely  and  winning,  and  bound- 
lessly interesting  to  listen  to :  one  understands  Mr. 
Delane  saying  that  he  believed  that  there  could  be 
no  successor  to  Lady  Palmerston  till  he  saw  Lady 
Carnarvon.  She  says  that  she  has  hitherto  been 
too  exclusive;  that  henceforth  she  shall  wish  to  fill 
her  house  more  with  people  of  every  shade — ^  for 
Carnarvon's  sake.'  As  I  watch  her,  I  am  perpetually 
reminded  of  Longfellow's  lines — 

'  Homeward  serenely  she  walked,  with  God's  benediction 
upon  her ; 

When  she  had  passed,  it  seemed  like  the  ceasing  of 
exquisite  music' 

''The  guests  are  Sir  Stafford,  Lady,  and  Miss 
Northcote,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chandos  Leigh,  Mr.  Herman 
Merivale,  the  Charles  Russells,  and  Mr.  Forester  and 
his  son  and  daughter-in-law,  all  pleasant  people,  yet 
on  the  whole  not  so  well-fitting  a  party  as  I  have 
usually  fallen  in  with.  The  little  daughter  of  the 
house — Winifred — is  the  most  delightful  and  unspoilt 
of  children." 

Journal. 

Highcle7'e^  Nov.  13. — ^  Mr.  Herman  Merivale 
told  us — 

''A  captain  was  crossing  to  America  in  his  ship. 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 

with  very  few  sailors  on  board.  One  day  one  of 
them  came  up  to  him  on  the  deck  and  said  that  there 
was  a  strange  man  in  his  cabin — that  he  could  not 
see  the  man's  face,  but  that  he  was  sitting  with  his 
back  to  the  door  at  the  table  writing.  The  captain 
said  it  was  impossible  there  could  be  any  one  in  his 
cabin,  and  desired  the  sailor  to  go  and  look  again. 
When  he  came  up,  he  said  the  man  was  gone,  but 
on  the  table  was  the  paper  on  which  he  had  written, 
with  the  ink  still  wet,  the  words  — '  Steer  due 
south.'  The  captain  said  that,  as  he  was  not  pressed 
for  time,  he  would  act  on  the  mysterious  warning. 
He  steered  due  south,  and  met  with  a  ship  which 
had  been  long  disabled  and  whose  crew  were  in  the 
last  extremity. 

^'The  captain  of  the  disabled  ship  said  that  one 
of  his  men  was  a  very  strange  character.  He  had 
himself  picked  him  up  from  a  deserted  ship,  and 
since  then  he  had  fallen  into  a  cataleptic  trance,  in 
which,  when  he  recovered,  he  declared  that  he  had 
been  in  another  ship,  begging  its  captain  to  come  to 
their  assistance.  When  the  man  who  had  been  sent 
to  the  cabin  saw  the  cataleptic  sailor,  he  recognised 
him  at  once  as  the  man  he  had  seen  writing. 

Mr.  Merivale  said  that  a  case  of  the  same  kind 
had  happened  to  himself. 

He  was  staying  at  Harrow,  and  very  late  at  night 
was  summoned  to  London.  Exactly  as  the  clock 
struck  twelve  he  passed  the  headmaster's  door  in  a 
fly.  Both  he  and  the  friend  who  was  with  him  w^ere 
at  that  moment  attracted  by  seeing  a  hackney-coach 
at  the  door — a  most  unusual  sight  at  that  time  of 


1873]  IN    MY   SOLITARY    LIFE  T  5  I 

night,  and  a  male  figure,  wrapped  in  black,  descend 
from  it  and  glide  into  the  house,  without,  apparently, 
ringing,  or  any  door  being  opened.  He  spoke  of  it 
to  his  friend,  and  they  both  agreed  that  it  was  equally 
mysterious  and  inexplicable.  The  next  day,  the  cir- 
cumstance so  dwelt  on  Mr.  Merivale's  mind,  that 
he  returned  to  Harrow,  and  going  to  the  house,  asked 
if  the  headmaster.  Dr.  Butler,  was  at  home.  ^  No,^ 
said  the  servant.  Then  he  asked  who  had  come  at 
twelve  o'clock  the  night  before.  No  one  had  come, 
no  one  had  been  heard  of,  no  carriage  had  been  seen ; 
but  Dr.  Butler's  father  had  died  just  at  that  moment 
in  a  distant  county. 

Sir  Charles  Russell  told  us — 
^^When  the  34th  Regiment  was  quartered  at  Gib- 
raltar, it  had  the  stupidest  and  dullest  set  of  officers 
that  can  possibly  be  imagined  ;  they  not  only  knew 
nothing,  but  they  preferred  to  know  nothing;  and 
especially  were  they  averse  to  learning  anything  of 
Spanish,  which  was  certainly  very  short-sighted  of 
them,  as  it  cut  them  off  from  so  many  social  pleasures. 
But  nevertheless  they  all  very  much  admired  a  beau- 
tiful young  Spanish  sefiorita  who  was  living  at  Gib- 
raltar, and  pretended  that  they  were  not  otherwise 
than  in  her  good  graces,  which  of  course  was  simply 
bombast,  as  none  of  them  knew  a  word  of  Spanish 
and  scarcely  a  word  of  French,  so  that  not  one  of 
them  had  ever  spoken  to  her. 

One  day,  while  the  regiment  was  at  Gibraltar, 
a  young  ensign  came  to  join,  who  had  never  been 
abroad  before,  and  who  knew  even  less  of  any  foreign 
language  than  his  comrades.    Nevertheless,  in  a  short 


IS2 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1873 


time  he  had  taken  cue  by  them,  and  pretended  more 
than  all  the  others  to  be  in  the  good  graces  of  the 
young  lady,  and  was  well  laughed  at  accordingly. 

One  evening  at  mess  one  of  the  officers  mentioned 
that  the  senorita  was  going  to  Cadiz.  ^  No,  she  is 
not,^  said  the  young  ensign.  ^  Oh,  you  young  jacka- 
napes,^ said  his  fellow-officers,  '  what  can  you  know 
about  it?  You  know  nothing  about  her.^ — 'Yes,'  he 
said  sharply,  '  I  do.  She  is  not  going  to  Cadiz ;  and 
what  is  more,  I  beg  that  her  name  may  not  be  brought 
forward  in  this  way  at  mess  any  more  :  I  am  engaged 
to  be  married  to  her.' 

''There  was  a  universal  roar,  and  an  outcry  of 
'  You  don't  suppose  we  are  going  to  believe  that  ? ' 
But  the  ensign  said,  '  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour 
as  an  officer  and  a  gentleman  that  I  am  engaged  to 
be  married  to  her.' 

"  Then  the  Colonel,  who  was  present,  said,  '  Well, 
as  he  represents  it  in  this  way^  we  are  bound  to  believe 
him.'  And  then,  turning  to  the  young  ensign,  said, 
'  Now  my  dear  fellow,  as  we  do  accept  what  you  say, 
I  think  you  need  not  leave  us  up  in  the  clouds  like 
this.  Will  you  not  tell  us  how  it  came  about  ?  You 
cannot  wonder  that  we  should  be  a  little  surprised, 
when  we  know  that  you  do  not  speak  a  word  of 
Spanish  and  only  two  or  three  words  of  French, 
that  you  should  be  engaged  to  be  married  to  this 
young  lady.' 

"'Well,'  said  the  ensign,  'since  you  accept  what 
I  say,  yes,  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are  a  little 
surprised.  I  do  not  mind  telling  you  all  about  it.  It 
is  quite  true  I  do  not  understand  a  word  of  Spanish, 


1873] 


IN    MY  SOLITARY  LIFE 


153 


and  only  three  or  four  words  of  French,  but  that 
does  not  matter.  After  the  ball  at  the  Convent  the 
other  day  (the  house  of  the  Governor  of  Gibraltar  is 
called  ^  the  Convent  ^)  we  went  out  upon  the  balcony, 
and  we  watched  the  moonlight  shimmering  on  the 
waves  of  the  sea,  and  I  looked  up  into  her  eyes,  and 
I  said,  Voulez  vous  ?  and  she  said,  Quoi  ?  " — and 
I  said,  Moi ;  "  and  she  said,  Oui  " — and  it  was  quite 
enough/ 

In  the  churchyard  here  is  an  epitaph  'To  the 
memory  of  J.  T.  C,  a  man  of  great  uprightness  and 
integrity,  and,  as  far  as  is  consistent  with  human 
imperfection,  an  honest  man."  ^ 

Sonningj  Nov.  ijj  1873. — It  is  quite  curious  how 
intimately  this  parish  and  its  Rector  (Hugh  Pearson) 
are  bound  together.  The  Rectory  is  less  his  house 
than  that  of  all  his  parishioners,  and  it  is  perfectly 
open  to  them  at  all  times.  The  choir  is  most  amus- 
ing, the  'poor  dear  chicks,'  as  the  Rector  calls 
them,  combing  each  other's  hair  in  the  vestry  before 
coming  into  church.  A  number  of  young  men  are 
constant  intimates  of  the  house,  especially  '  Ken,' 
Kenneth  Mackenzie ;  '  Spes,'  Hope  ;  and  '  Francis,' 
Lord  Francis  Harvey.  There  was  once  a  bishopric 
here,  a  fact  which  was  disputed  by  Professor  Stubbs 
at  Oxford,  who  said  it  was  at  Ramsbury,  upon  which 
the  Vicar  immediately  left  his  card  on  him  as  '  Bishop 
of  Sonning.' 

''  Speaking  of  Arthur  Stanley's  absence  of  mind, 

^  This  is  much  like  the  epitaph  which  Ruskin  has  placed  on  the 
grave  of  his  father. 


154  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

H.  P.  has  been  describing  how  one  day  driving  from 
Monreale  to  Palermo  with  their  carpet-bags  on  the 
seat  before  them,  Arthur  suddenly  complained  of 
the  cold.  '  Well,  you  had  better  put  something  on/ 
said  H.  P.  'I  will/  said  Arthur.  H.  P.  went  on  with 
his  book,  till,  after  some  time,  suddenly  looking  up, 
he  saw  Arthur,  who  was  also  busily  engaged  in 
reading,  entirely  clothed  in  white  raiment.  He  had 
put  on  his  night-shirt  over  all  his  other  clothes,  with- 
out thinking  what  he  was  doing,  and  they  were  just 
driving  into  the  streets  of  Palermo  ! " 

Ascol  Wood^  Jan.  5,  1874. — I  came  to  London  three 
weeks  ago  in  a  thick  fog,  such  as  Charles  Lamb  would 
have  said  was  meat,  drink,  and  clothing.  One  day 
I  went  with  Lady  Ashburton  to  visit  Mr.  Carlyle. 
It  was  most  interesting — the  quaint  simple  old- 
fashioned  brick  house  in  Cheyne  Row ;  the  faded 
furniture ;  the  table  where  he  toiled  so  long  and  fruit- 
lessly at  the  deification  of  Frederi-ck  the  Great ;  the 
workbox  and  other  little  occupatory  articles  of  the 
long  dead  wife,  always  left  untouched  ;  the  living  niece, 
jealous  of  all  visitors,  thinking  that  even  Lady  Ash- 
burton must  have  either  testamentary  or  matrimonial 
intentions;  and  the  great  man  himself  in  a  long  grey 
garment,  half  coat,  half  dressing-gown,  which  buttoned 
to  the  throat  and  fell  in  straight  folds  to  the  feet  or 
below  them,  like  one  of  the  figures  in  Noah's  Ark, 
and  with  the  addition,  when  he  went  out  with  us,  of 
an  extraordinary  tall  broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  which 
can  only  be  procured  at  a  single  village  in  Bavaria, 
and  which  gave  him  the  air  of  an  old  magician. 


1 874] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


I5S 


He  talked  of  Holman  Hunt's  picture  of  the  Home 
at  Nazareth,  '  the  most  unnatural  thing  that  ever  was 
painted,  and  the  most  unnatural  thing  in  it  the  idea 
that  the  Virgin  should  be  keeping  her  preciosities  "  in 
the  carpenter's  shop. 

He  talked  of  Landor,  of  the  grandeur  and  un- 
worldliness  of  his  nature,  and  of  how  it  was  a  lasting 
disgrace  to  England  that  the  vile  calumnies  of  an 
insolent  slanderer  had  been  suffered  to  blight  him  in 
the  eyes  of  so  many,  and  to  send  him  out  an  exile 
from  England  in  his  old  age. 

He  complained  much  of  his  health,  fretting  and 
fidgeting  about  himself,  and  said  he  could  form  no  worse 
wish  for  the  devil  than  that  he  might  be  able  to  give 
him  his  stomach  to  digest  with  through  all  eternity. 

We  walked  out  with  him  in  the  street,  one  on  each 
side.  I  saw  the  cab-drivers  pointing  and  laughing  at 
the  extraordinary  figure,  and  indeed  it  was  no  wonder. 

'^At  Mrs.  Thornton's  I  met  Miss  Thackeray  at 
dinner,  and  have  seen  her  since.  She  is  charming, 
well  worthy  to  be  the  authoress  of  her  books.  She 
said  till  the  money  for  ^  Old  Kensington '  was  spent, 
she  should  rest.  She  spoke  of  the  happiness  of  bring- 
ing up  her  little  niece,  of  the  surroundings  of  young 
life  which  it  gave  her.  She  talked  much  of  the 
'  Memorials,'  and  of  the  problem  how  far  it  was  well 
to  be  contented  with  a  quiet  life  as  God  sent  it,  and 
how  far  one  ought  to  seek  for  work  for  Him.  When 
I  said  something  of  her  books  and  their  giving  pleasure  ; 
she  said,  ^  Now  let  us  skip  that  last  sentence  and  go 
back  to  what  we  were  saying  before.' 

'^Colonel  and  Mrs.  Henderson  (of  the  Police  Force) 


156 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


were  at  dinner.  He  said  his  father  had  been  executor 
to  old  Lord  Bridport,  who  had  a  box  which  no  one 
was  ever  allowed  to  open,  and  of  the  contents  of 
which  even  Lady  Bridport  was  ignorant.  After  Lord 
Bridport's  death,  the  widow  sent  for  Colonel  Henderson 
to  look  into  things,  and  then  said,  '  I  wish  you  would 
open  that  box ;  one  ought  to  know  about  it.'  Colonel 
Henderson  did  not  like  doing  it,  but  took  the  box  into 
the  library  and  sat  down  before  it,  with  candles  by 
his  side.  Immediately  he  heard  a  movement  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  and,  looking  up,  saw  old  Lord 
Bridport  as  clearly  as  he  had  ever  seen  him  in  his 
life,  scowling  down  upon  him  with  a  furious  expres- 
sion. He  went  back  at  once  to  Lady  Bridport  and 
positively  refused  to  open  the  box,  which  was  then 
destroyed  unopened.  He  said,  '  I  shall  never  to  my 
dying  day  forget  the  face  of  Lord  Bridport  as  I  saw 
him  after  he  was  dead.^ 

In  Wilton  Crescent  I  saw  Mrs.  Leycester,  who 
was  just  come  from  Cheshire.    She  said  : — 

A  brother  of  Sir  Philip  Egerton  has  lately 
been  given  a  living  in  Devonshire,  and  went  to  take 
possession  of  it.  He  had  not  been  long  in  his  rectory 
before,  coming  one  day  into  his  study,  he  found  an 
old  lady  seated  there  in  an  arm-chair  by  the  fire. 
Knowing  no  old  lady  could  really  be  there,  and 
thinking  the  appearance  must  be  the  result  of  an 
indigestion,  he  summoned  all  his  courage  and  boldly 
sat  down  upon  the  old  lady,  who  disappeared.  The 
next  day  he  met  the  old  lady  in  the  passage,  rushed 
up  against  her,  and  she  vanished.  But  he  met  her 
a  third  time,  and  then,  feeling  that  it  could  not  always 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


157 


be  indigestion,  he  wrote  to  his  sister  in  Cheshire, 
begging  her  to  call  upon  the  Misses  Athelstan,  sisters 
of  the  clergyman  who  had  held  his  living  before, 
and  say  what  he  had  seen.  When  they  heard  it,  the 
Misses  Athelstan  looked  inexpressibly  distressed  and 
said,  '  That  was  our  mother :  we  hoped  it  was  only 
to  us  she  would  appear.  When  we  were  there,  she 
appeared  constantly,  but  when  we  left,  we  hoped  she 
would  be  at  rest/ 

''About  'ghost-stories'  I  always  recollect  what  Dr. 
Johnson  used  to  say — 'The  beginning  and  end  of 
ghost-stories  is  this,  all  argument  is  against  them, 
all  belief  is  for  them.' 

"  I  have  had  a  charming  visit  here  at  Ascot  to  the 
Lefevres,  the  only  other  guest  being  old  Mr.  Cole 
of  South  Kensington,  the  incarnation  of  '  Father 
Christmas  'or  of  '  Old  King  Cole.'  He  talked  of  the 
facihty  of  getting  money  and  the  difficulty  of  keeping 
it.  He  said  that  when  he  wanted  money  for  a  Music 
School,  he  asked  Sir  Titus  Salt  for  a  subscription. 
Sir  Titus  asked  him  what  he  wanted  him  to  give. 
'  Whatever  you  think  will  look  best  at  the  day  of 
judgment,'  said  Mr.  Cole.  Sir  Titus  signed  a  cheque 
for  ^looo. 

"Sir  John  Lefevre  described  a  place  in  Essex  belong- 
ing to  a  Mr.  (now  Sir  William)  and  Mrs.  Stephenson. 
When  they  first  went  there,  the  housekeeper  said 
there  was  one  room  which  it  was  never  the  custom 
to  use.  For  a  long  time  it  continued  to  be  unoccupied, 
but  one  day,  when  the  house  was  very  full  and  an 
unexpected  arrival  announced,  Mrs.  S.  said  she  should 
open  and  air  it,  and  sent  for  the  key.    All  the  people 


158 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


staying  in  the  house,  full  of  curiosity,  went  with  her 
when  she  visited  the  room  for  the  first  time.  It  was  a 
large  panelled  room  containing  a  bed  like  a  catafalque, 
with  heavy  stuff  curtains  drawn  all  round.  They  drew 
aside  the  curtains,  and  there  was  the  mark  of  a  bloody 
hand  upon  the  pillow !  The  room  was  shut  up  again 
from  that  time  forward." 

Hohnhurst,  Jan.  22. — George  Sheffield  is  here. 
He  says  that  the  Russian  Minister's  wife  at  Washing- 
ton called  her  dog  '  Moreover,'  because  of  ^  Moreover 
the  dog  came  and  licked  his  sores.' " 

HolinhMTst^  Jan.  24. — ^  No,'  says  Lea,  'everything 
is  not  improving.  I  always  say  that  everything  has  been 
going  to  the  bad  since  the  pudding  lost  its  place.' 

'Why,  what  can  you  mean  ? ' 
'' '  Oh,  in  the  old  days,  the  good  old  days,  the 
pudding  always  used  to  be  before  the  meat,  and 
then  people  were  not  so  extravagant  at  the  butcher's. 
Why,  old  Mr.  Taylor^  used  to  say  to  me,  ''You 
know,  marm,"  says  he,  "we  used  to  tak'  a  bit  of  the 
dough  when  the  bread  was  rising,  and  slip  in  an 
apple  or  two  without  peeling  'em,  and  bake  'em  in 
the  oven,  and  that  was  our  dinner  you  know,  marm." ' 

Journal  (The  Green  Book). 

Jan.  25,  1874. — Somehow  I  have  felt  as  if  this 
volume  was  closed  for  ever — closed  away  with  the 
sweet  presence  which  was  so  long  the  sunshine  of 

^  A  rich  farmer,  the  landlord  of  our  Lime  farm  at  LIurstmonceaux. 


1 874] 


IN    MY   SOLITARY  LIFE 


my  life.  Yet  to-da}'-,  while  I  am  alone,  sitting  once 
more  in  the  sacred  chamber  where  I  have  watched 
her  through  so  many  days  and  nights,  I  feel  con- 
strained to  write  once  more. 

How  all  is  changed  to  me  since  then :  I  can 
hardly  feel  as  if  the  two  lives  were  related — hardly 
as  if  they  could  belong  to  the  same  person. 

^'Wonderfully,  mysteriously,  time  has  healed — no, 
not  healed,  but  soothed,  even  this  wound.  At  first  I 
felt  this  must  always  be  impossible,  life  was  too  blank, 
but  imperceptibly,  stealthily,  other  interests  asserted 
their  power,  and  though  the  old  life  is  always  the 
life  to  me,  yet  I  feel  all  is  not  over. 

I  have  always  talked  of  my  Mother,  and  it  has  been 
a  great  comfort.  At  first  it  almost  shocked  people  that 
I  should  do  it.  Perhaps  the  very  fact  of  talking  and 
writing  about  her  myself,  and  her  life  being  now  so 
much  talked  of  by  others,  has  dried  up  the  agony  of 
my  own  inner  desolation  by  force  of  habitude.  Yet, 
oh,  my  darling !  there  is  never  a  day,  seldom  an  hour, 
in  which  I  do  not  think  of  her ;  and  sometimes  when 
I  am  alone, 

'  When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought, 
I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past,' 

I  take  one  of  her  sketch-books,  one  of  her  journals  or 
mine,  and  with  them  go  back  into  our  old  life — thus 
she  looked — thus  she  spoke — thus  she  smiled. 

''At  first  I  was  kept  up  by  the  sacred  work  of  the 
'  Memorials/  and  the  necessity  of  fighting  against  the 
violent  family  opposition  to  them.  This  seemed  a 
duty  which  rose  out  of  her  grave,  the  one  duty  for 


l60  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

which  I  was  prepared  to  sacrifice  everything  else  in 
the  world.  I  was  determined  to  fulfil  it  at  whatever 
cost  to  myself.  And  I  have  fulfilled  it — not  so  well 
perhaps  as  I  might  have  done  if  Arthur  and  Mary 
Stanley  had  not  tried  to  trample  and  stamp  all  the 
spirit  out  of  it.  They  condemned  the  book  violently 
and  furiously  before  they  read  it,  and,  after  reading 
it,  they  never  had  the  courage  to  rescind  opinions 
expressed  so  frequently  and  publicly.  Still,  the  world 
says  that  it  is  well,  and  it  will  still  keep  her  lamp 
burning  brightly,  so  that  her  earthly  work  is  not  over 
yet,  and  she  can  still  guide  others  heavenward  through 
the  darkness.  Besides,  not  only  in  the  '  Memorials,' 
but  in  all  else,  I  have  felt  the  truth  of  Joseph  Mazzini's 
advice — ^  Get  up  and  work  ;  do  not  set  yourself  apart. 
When  the  Evil  One  wanted  to  tempt  Jesus,  he  led 
Him  into  a  solitude.' 

was  one  winter  in  Spain  with  Miss  Wright. 
Then  not  much  more  than  my  first  desolate  year  had 
passed,  and  I  had  still  that  crushed  lacerated  feehng 
of  utter  misery ;  but  I  tried  to  be  as  bright  as  I  could 
for  my  companion's  sake.  Last  year  I  was  in  Italy, 
and  though  very  ill,  and  though  I  felt  poignantly  the 
first  return  to  the  old  scenes,  it  was  better,  and  all 
old  friends  were  most  kind. 

^^The  dear  cousin  of  my  mother's  life,  Charlotte 
Leycester,  has  been  here  each  year  for  some  months, 
and  other  guests  come  and  go  through  the  summer, 
so  that  little  Holmhurst  still  gives  pleasure. 

**  At  first  I  v/as  very,  very  poor,  and  it  was  a 
struggle  to  have  a  home ;  but  latterly  my  books  have 
brought  in  enough  to  keep  the  house,  and  a  great 


1874]  IN    MY  SOLITARY    LIFE  161 

deal  to  give  away  besides,  which  has  been  most 
opportune,  as  several  members  of  the  family  have 
sorely  needed  helping.  I  have  also  a  little  Hospice, 
where  I  receive  those  whom  I  hear  of  as  in  need  of 
thorough  change,  mental  and  physical,  for  a  month, 
sets  of  sunshine-seekers  succeeding  each  other.  My 
dear  Lea  is  still  left  to  me,  and  is  my  greatest  comfort, 
so  associated  with  all  that  is  gone. 

My  books  have  made  me  almost  well  known  after 
a  fashion,  and  people  are  very  kind,  for,  with  what 
Shakspeare  calls  ^  the  excellent  foppery  of  the  world,' 
man}^  who  used  to  snub  me  now  almost  ^  make  up  to 
me,'  and  all  kinds  of  so-called  'great  people'  invite 
me  to  their  houses.  Sometimes  this  is  very  pleasant, 
and  I  always  enjoy  being  liked.  I  do  not  think  it  is 
likely  to  set  me  up;  I  have  too  strong  a  feeling  of 
my  own  real  inferiority  to  the  opinion  formed  of 
me.  Intellectually,  1  am  so  ill  grounded  that  I  really 
know  nothing  well  or  accurately ;  and  if  I  am  what 
is  called  '  generous,'  certainly  that  is  no  virtue,  for  it 
pleases  myself  as  well  as  others.  I  think  it  is  still  with 
me  as  George  Sand  says  of  herself,  '  Je  n'ai  pas  de 
bonheur  dans  la  vie,  mais  j'ai  beaucoup  de  bonheurs.' 

To-morrow  I  am  going  abroad  again.  It  is  almost 
necessary  for  my  books ;  and  though  I  feel  bitterly 
leaving  Lea  and  the  little  home,  I  like  my  mother's 
adopted  son  to  earn  a  reputation ;  that  is  all  I  care 
for,  except  that  it  is  always  a  pleasure  to  give  pleasure. 
There  is  a  sentence,  too,  of  Carlyle's  which  comes  back 
tome — 'We  are  sufficiently  applauded  and  approved, 
and  ought  now,  if  possible,  to  go  and  do  something 
deserving  a  little  applause.'  " 

VOL.  IV.  L 


XVII 


LITERARY  WORK  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD 

Ohne  Hast,  aber  ohne  Rast."— Goethe. 

"  Leisure  and  I  have  taken  leave  of  one  another.  I  propose  to  be 
busy  as  long  as  I  live,  if  my  health  is  so  long  indulged  to  me." — John 
Wesley. 

'*To  seek  fame  is  even  a  solemn  duty  for  men  endowed  with  more 
than  ordinary  powers  of  mind.  First,  as  multiplying  the  ways  and 
chances  by  which  a  useful  work  comes  into  the  hands  of  such  as  are 
prepared  to  avail  themselves  of  it ;  secondly,  as  securing  for  such  a  work 
that  submissiveness  of  heart,  that  docility,  without  which  nothing  really 
good  can  be  really  acquired  ;  and  lastly,  because  the  individuality  of  the 
author,  with  all  the  associations  connected  with  his  name  and  history, 
adds  greatly  to  the  effect  of  a  work." — Coleridge  ^  Sir  G.  Beau- 
mont. 

"For  ever  I  wrastle,  for  ever  I  am  behind." — GowER,  Confessio 
A  mantis. 

"  'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success ; 

But  we'll  do  more,  Sempronius — we'll  deserve  it." 

— Addison,  Cato. 

The  success  of  ''Walks  in  Rome,"  and  the 

great  pleasure  which  I  had  derived  from  the 

preparation  of  my  ''Days  near  Rome,"  made 

me  undertake,  in  the  spring  of  1874,  the  more 

ambitious  work  of  "Cities  of  Northern  and 

162 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  63 

Central  Italy,"  in  preparation  for  which  I  left 
England  at  the  end  of  January,  accepting  on 
the  way  an  oft-repeated  invitation  from  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  de  Wesselow  to  their  beautiful  home  at 
Cannes. 

Journal. 

Villa  La  Cava^  Cannes^  Jan,  30,  1874. — What 
a  view  I  look  upon  here  from  my  beautiful  room  ! — 
a  pure  blue  sky  all  around,  fading  into  the  softest  most 
deHcate  golden  hues  where  it  meets  the  waveless  ex- 
panse of  sea,  upon  which  the  islands  seem  asleep  in 
the  sunshine ;  on  one  side  the  old  town  of  Cannes, 
with  its  pier  and  shipping  and  the  white  sails  of  its 
boats ;  on  the  other,  the  endless  villas,  and  Mougins, 
and  the  mountains — all  rising  from  a  wealth  of  orange 
and  cypress  groves ;  and,  close  at  hand,  masses  of 
geraniums  and  roses  and  the  ^  sunshine  tree '  (golden 
mimosa)  in  full  blossom, — and  thus,  they  say,  it  has 
been  all  winter. 

Paris  was  at  its  ugliest.  I  had  a  pleasant  dinner  at 
the  Embassy,  and  I  went  to  see  old  Madame  Dubois 
at  the  top  of  a  house,  in  her  room  which  is  at  once 
sitting-room,  bedroom,  and  kitchen.  She  was  full  of 
the  wretchedness  of  living  in  a  country  where  your 
servant  had  no  scruple  in  telling  you  she  was  your 
equal,  and  that  she  was  jealous  of  your  being  richer 
than  herself  She  showed  her  household  treasures, 
especially  a  little  silver  owl,  ^  qui  est  restee  longtemps 
sans  se  marier,  et  puis  a  fait  un  petit  hibou.' 

I  left  in  the  evening  for  my  four-and-twenty  hours' 


164  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1B74 

journey.  The  train  was  crowded,  every  place  full, 
but,  in  spite  of  my  seven  companions  and  their  twenty- 
eight  handbags,  which  obliged  me  to  sit  bolt  upright 
the  whole  way,  I  rather  enjoyed  it.  There  is  something 
so  interesting  in  the  rapid  transitions  :  the  plains  of 
Central  France :  the  rolling  hills  of  Burgundy  in  the 
white  moonlight :  the  great  towns,  Dijon  and  Lyons, 
deep  down  below,  and  mapped  out  by  their  lamps  : 
the  dawn  over  the  Rhone  valley :  the  change  to  blue 
sky  melting  into  delicate  amber :  the  first  stunted 
olives :  the  white  roads  leading,  dust-surrounded,  to 
the  white  cities,  Avignon  and  Tarascon  and  Aries : 
the  desolate  stone-laden  Crau :  the  still  blue  Medi- 
terranean, and  Marseilles  with  its  shipping,  and  then 
the  granite  phase  of  southern  Provence  and  its  growth 
of  heath  and  lavender  and  pines. 

On  this,  the  eastern  side,  Cannes  is  a  new  world 
to  me,  but  on  Sunday,  with  Marcus  Hare  and  G.,  I 
went  up  to  the  other  side,  to  the  Villa  S.  Francois 
and  our  beloved  pine-wood,  alive  still  with  sacred 
memories,  where  the  dear  form  still  might  seem  to 
wander  with  her  sunshade  and  camp-stool,  and  where 
we  sat  on  the  very  stone  she  used  to  rest  on  in 
'the  Shepherdesses^  Walk.'  G.  is  too  matter  of  fact 
to  enjoy  this  country.  When  I  exclaimed  over  the 
glorious  beauty  and  variety  of  the  view  of  the  Rocher  de 
Bilheres,  standing  out  as  it  does  from  the  supreme 
point  of  the  forest  promontory,  with  the  purple  shadows 
behind  it  in  the  deep  rift,  she  could  only  say,  '  I 
should  be  better  satisfied  if  I  could  ascertain  exactly 
what  it  is  mineralogically.' 

''I  went  with  Frank  de  Wesselow  to  Vallauris,  the 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        1 65 


walk  a  perfect  series  of  pictures — the  winding  road 
with  its  glorious  sea-views;  then,  at  the  chapel,  the 
opening  upon  all  the  Alpine  range ;  then  the  deep 
hollow  ways  overhung  by  old  gnarled  olives,  and 
peopled  by  peasants  with  their  mules  and  baskets. 

Yesterday  I  had  a  visit  from  George  Sutherland, 
whom  I  looked  after  in  his  fever  at  Rome,  full  of  his 
spiritualism,  of  his  drawings  made  under  the  influence 
of  spirits,  who  'squeeze  out  just  the  amount  of  colour 
to  be  used  and  no  more,^  and  of  his  conversations 
with  his  dead  mother,  whom  he  described  as  '  touching 
him  constantly/ 

In  the  evening  we  talked  of  the  De  Wesselows' 
faithful  servant  Mrs.  Manning,  of  her  wonderful  power 
of  making  people  understand  her,  and  how  her  ap- 
preciation of  foreigners  was  entirely  in  proportion  to 
their  doing  so.  Frank  was  standing  by  her  one  day 
in  the  garden  when  their  maid  Therese  passed  by. 
Mrs.  Manning  said  quickly,  '  Teresa,  acqua  fresca  pully, 
and  these  things  want  lavering,^  and,  without  giving 
another  moment's  attention,  went  on  with  what  she  had 
been  doing.  Therese,  in  her  slow  way,  said  'Yees/ 
thinking  that  she  talked  English  very  well,  and  under- 
stood perfectly  that  she  was  to  give  some  water  to  the 
chickens  and  that  the  things  wanted  washing." 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Villa  Heraud^  Cimies^  Feb,  6,  1874. — I  am  writing 
from  a  beautiful  country  villa,  where,  in  sweet  Mary 
Harford,^  I  find  the  friend  of  my  childhood  quite 

^  Mrs.  Harford  of  Blaise  Castle,  third  daughter  of  Baron  de  Bunsen. 


1 66  THE   STORY    OF   MY    LIFE  [1B74 

unchanged,  though  it  is  fifteen  years  since  I  have  seen 
her.  In  spite  of  being  the  mother  of  six  daughters 
and  two  sons,  she  looks  still  as  young  as  the  Mary 
Bunsen  who  was  carried  quite  helpless  into  Hurst- 
monceaux  Place  twenty-three  years  ago.  It  is  a  most 
united  family,  and  you  would  admire  the  way  in  which 
the  six  daughters  take  arms  and  sing  a  hymn  behind 
their  mother  (who  plays)  after  family  prayers." 

Pa7^maj  Feb.  12,  1874. — I  had  so  many  kind  in- 
vitations at  Nice,  I  rather  longed  to  remain  there. 
On  Sunday  I  went  home  after  church  with  Lady 
Jocelyn  and  her  little  grand-daughter.  I  had  not  seen 
her  since  the  loss  of  her  children.  Her  sweet  sad 
face  quite  haunts  me.  I  said  to  her,  *  Do  you  often 
drive  out.' — '  No,'  she  said ;  ^  I  must  always  walk,  or 
else  the  days  would  be  too  long.' 

I  had  an  interesting  railway  journey  on  Monday 
with  Madame  Franzoni,  who  lives  in  the  house  at 
Taggia  described  in  ^  Dr.  Antonio.'  She  was  Swiss. 
Her  husband,  of  an  old  Swiss-Italian  family,  was  dis- 
inherited on  becoming  Protestant,  and  was  obliged  to 
become  an  engineer.  His  father,  still  living,  has  been 
prevented  by  his  priests  from  speaking  to  him  for 
five-and-twenty  years,  though  devotedly  fond  of  him. 
She  took  her  two  little  children  and  made  them  sing 
a  hymn  beneath  the  tree  in  which  their  grandfather 
was  sitting.  Tears  streamed  down  the  old  man's 
cheeks,  but  he  would  not  look  at  them ;  he  said  it 
must  be  a  lesson  to  his  other  children.  The  mother 
offered  her  whole  fortune  if  her  son  would  consent  to 
hear  one  mass ;  she  believed  that  one  mass  would 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        1 6/ 


reconvert  him.  Since  then  the  Protestant  part  of  the 
family  have  been  dreadfully  poor,  whilst  the  rest  are 
immensely  rich.  Madame  Franzoni  said  that  the  priests 
of  Taggia  were  very  kind  to  them  privately,  but  would 
not  recognise  them  in  public. 

^^When  we  parted,  I  gave  her  my  card.  Some 
Americans  in  the  carriage  saw  it  and  almost  flew  into 
my  arms.   '  Oh,  the  '^Quiet  Life" — too  great  happiness,' 


LAMPEDUSA  FROM  TAGGIA.^ 

&c.  Afterwards  I  had  a  warning  to  be  careful  what 
subjects  one  touched  upon  with  strangers,  for  I  said 
something  about  the  loss  of  the  Ville  de  Havre,  The 
lady  (Mrs.  Colt)  burst  into  tears,  and  her  daughter 
said,  'Mother's  brother  was  the  judge  who  was  lost; 
he  would  not  leave  his  wife,  and  went  down  with  her 

^  From  ''Northern  Italy." 


1 68  THE    STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

in  his  arms,  saying,  Let  us  die  bravely  !  '  After- 
wards at  Genoa  I  met  a  young  lady  (Miss  Bulkeley) 
who  went  down  with  her  mother.  The  mother  was 
lost.  As  the  daughter  rose,  something  hurt  her  head  ; 
she  put  her  hand  to  it  and  caught  a  chain,  and  finding 


\ 


STAIRCASK,  PALAZZO  DELL'  UNIVKRSITA,  GKNOA  1 

her  head  above  water,  called,  ^  A  woman  !  help  ! '  She 
heard  men  say,  ^American  sailors  are  saving  you,'  but 
became  unconscious  and  knew  nothing  for  long  after- 
wards. She  said  it  was  quite  a  mistake  to  say  drowning 
was  painless — the  oppression  on  the  lungs  was  agony. 

^  From  ''Northern  Italy." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        1 69 

I  enjoyed  Genoa  and  my  work  there,  and  made 
several  pleasant  Italian  acquaintances,  the  Genoese 
are  so  hospitable.  The  Marchese  Spinola  showed  me 
all  the  treasures  and  pictures  of  his  old  palace  himself. 
I  suppose  I  must  take  this  as  a  great  compliment,  for 
I  was  amused  the  other  day  by  an  anecdote  of  the 
Marchesa  Spinola,  who  made  herself  most  agreeable 
to  an  Englishman  she  met  at  the  Baths  of  Monte 


CLOISTER  OF  S.  MATTKO,  GENOA.  ^ 


Catini.  On  taking  leave,  he  politely  expressed  a  hope 
that,  as  they  were  both  going  to  Rome  in  the  winter, 
they  might  meet  there.  ^  Mais  non,  Monsieur,'  she 
replied ;  ^  a  Monte  Catini  je  suis  charmee  de  vous  voir, 
mais  a  Rome  c'est  toute  autre  chose.'  Yesterday  I 
spent  in  correcting  my  account  of  Piacenza — bitterly 
cold,  children  sliding  all  over  the  streets,  which  were 

^  From  "Northern  Italy." 


THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

one  mass  of  ice.  ...  I  had  forgotten  the  intense  in- 
terest of  Parma  and  its  glorious  pictures,  especially 
what  a  grand  master  Pordenone  was." 

^^59  B.  Mario  de^  Fiori^  Rome,  Feb,  22. — Rome  is 
fearfully  modernised,  such  quantities  of  new  houses 
built,  such  quantities  of  old  buildings  swept  away — 
the  old  shell  fountain  in  the  Felice,  the  lion  of  the 
Apostoli,  the  Vintner's  fountain  at  Palazzo  Simonetti, 
the  ruins  of  the  Ponte  Salara,  and  ...  all  the  shrines 
in  the  Coliseum,  even  the  famous  cross  on  the  wall. 
The  last  nearly  caused  a  Revolution.  On  the  Pincio 
a  Swiss  cottage  is  put  up,  strangely  out  of  place 
amongst  the  old  statues,  and  a  clock  which  goes  by 
water.  Even  the  most  ardent  Protestants  too  are  a 
little  shocked  that  the  famous  Quirinal  Chapel,  so 
redolent  of  Church  history,  should  be  turned  into  a 
cloak-room  for  balls,  and  the  cloak-tickets  kept  in  the 
holy  water  basins.  The  poverty  and  suffering  amongst 
the  Romans  is  dreadful,  the  great  influx  of  Torinese 
taking  the  bread  out  of  their  mouths. 

You  would  be  amused  with  the  economy  of  my 
servants  Ambrogio  and  Maria.  They  think  it  most 
extravagant  if  I  have  both  vegetables  and  a  pudding, 
and  quite  sinful  to  have  soup  the  same  day ;  and  the 
first  day,  after  I  had  seen  the  kitchen  fire  blazing 
away  all  afternoon,  and  ^  II  Signorino  e  servito '  was 
announced  very  magnificently,  behold  the  dinner 
was — three  larks !  But  what  a  pleasure  it  is 
to  hear  again  from  servants — ^  Felicissima  notte,' — 
that  sweetest  bidding  of  repose,  as  Palgrave 
calls  it." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD  I7I 

March  i. — I  know,  as  usual,  far  too  many  people 
here  for  comfort,  nearly  three  hundred.  But  I  have 
enjoyed  constant  drives  with  Lady  Castletown  and 
her  most  sweet  and  charming  daughter,  Mrs.  Lewis 
Wingfield.  The  Miss  Seymours  also  are  here,  and  very 
agreeable,  with  their  very  handsome  sister,  married 
to  the  Austrian  Count  von  Lutzow.  The  Duchesse 
S.  Arpino  and  her  mother  and  engaging  Httle  daughter 
make  their  house  as  pleasant  as  ever.  Mr.  Adolphus 
Trollope  has  a  pretty  little  daughter  who  sings  most 
enchantingly.^  I  also  like  Lady  Paget,  the  Minister's 
wife,  who  is  a  clever  artist  in  her  own  way. 

The  spoliation  of  Rome  continues  every  day.  Its 
picturesque  beauty  is  gone.  Nothing  can  exceed  the 
tastelessness  of  all  that  is  being  done — the  Coliseum, 
Baths  of  Caracalla,  and  the  temples  are  scraped  quite 
clean,  and  look  like  sham  ruins  built  yesterday :  all 
the  pretty  trees  are  cut  down  :  the  outsides  of  the 
mediaeval  churches  (Prassede,  Pudentiana,  &c.)  are 
washed  yellow  or  painted  over :  the  old  fountains  are 
stripped  of  their  ferns  and  polished :  the  Via  Crucis 
and  other  processions  are  forbidden  :  and  the  Govern- 
ment has  even  sent  out  the  ^  pompieri '  to  cut  down 
all  the  ivy  from  the  aqueducts.  I  have,  however,  got 
back  one  thing — the  Lion  of  the  Apostoli !  I  went 
round  to  a  number  of  people  living  in  that  neighbour- 
hood, and  engaged  them  to  go  in  the  morning  to  the 
Senators  in  the  Capitol  and  demand  its  restoration  : 
and  a  message  was  sent  that  the  lion  should  be  restored 
at  once.    So  the  little  hideous  beast  goes  back  this 

^  Beatrice,  afterwards  the  first  wife  of  Charles  Stuart  Wortley. 


1/2 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


week  to  his  little  vacant  sofa,  where  he  has  sat  for 
more  than  six  hundred  years. 

^^The  cardinals  have  been  dying  off  a  good  deal 
lately,  and  a  curious  relic  of  old  times  was  the  lying  in 
state  of  Cardinal  Bernabo  in  the  Propaganda  Fide — 
the  chapel  hung  with  black,  the  catafalque  with  cloth 


COLONNA  CASTLE,  PALESTRINA.^ 


of  gold,  a  chain  of  old  abbots  and  cardinals  standing 
and  kneeling  round  with  tapers,  and  all  the  students 
singing.  Pius  IX.  is  well,  and  Antonelli  has  never 
been  the  least  ill,  except  in  the  Times^  in  which  he 
has  received  the  last  sacraments." 

Tivolij  MmxJi  22. — I  have  been  greatly  enjoying 
a  little  mountain  tour  with  Lady  Castletown  and  Mrs. 

^  From  *'  Days  near  Rome." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  73 


Lewis  Wingfield.  On  Wednesday  we  spent  the  day 
in  the  villas  Aldobrandini  and  Mondragone  at  Frascati, 
and  the  next  morning  had  the  most  charming  drive 
by  Monte  Porzio  and  Monte  Compatri,  chiefly  through 
the  desolate  chestnut  forests,  to  Palestrina.  It  was 
the  fair  of  Genazzano,  and  the  whole  road  was  most 
animated,  such  crowds  of  peasants  in  their  gayest 
costumes  and  prettiest  ornaments.  At  beautiful  Olevano 


gp:nazzano.i 


we  had  just  time  to  go  to  the  little  inn  and  visit  my 
friend  of  last  year,  Peppina  Baldi.  It  was  a  tiring 
journey  thence  to  Subiaco  after  such  a  long  day,  and 
we  only  passed  the  worst  precipices  by  daylight,  so 
it  was  quite  dark  when  we  reached  Subiaco,  where 
we  found  rooms  with  difficulty,  as,  quite  unwittingly, 
we  had  arrived  on  the  eve  of  the  great  festa  of  S. 
Benedetto.     Most   delighted  we  were,  however,  of 

^  From  "  Days  near  Rome." 


174 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


course,  and  most  picturesque  and  beautiful  was  the 
early  pilgrimage,  with  bands  of  music  and  singing,  up 
the  stony  mountain  paths.  Lady  Castletown  travels 
with  a  second  carriage  for  her  maids,  so  prices  natu- 
rally rise  at  first  sight  of  so  grand  a  princess.  .  .  . 


SUBIACO, 


On  the  way  here  we  diverged  to  the  farm  of  Horace 
in  the  Licenza  valley,  all  marvellously  unaltered — 
the  brook,  the  meadows,  the  vines,  the  surrounding 
hills  and  villages,  still  just  as  he  described  them  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago.  It  is  a  wonderful  country,  one 
lives  so  entirely  in  the  past." 


From  "  Days  near  Rome." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  75 

I  have  seldom  enjoyed  Tivoli  more  than  in 
this  spring  of  1874.  It  was  then  that,  sitting 
in  the  scene  I  describe,  I  wrote  the  paragraph 
of    Days  near  Rome  "  which  I  insert  here. 


SACRO  SPECO,  SUBIACO.^ 


Nothing  can  exceed  the  loveHness  of  the  views 
from  the  road  which  leads  from  TivoH  by  the  chapel 
of  S.  Antonio  to  the  Madonna  di  Quintiliolo.  On  the 
opposite  height  rises  the  town  with  its  temples,  its 

^  From  "Days  near  Rome." 


1/6 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


old  houses  and  churches  ch'nging  to  the  edge  of  the 
cHffs,  which  are  overhung  with  such  a  wealth  of 
luxuriant  vegetation  as  is  almost  indescribable ;  and 
beyond,  beneath  the  huge  pile  of  building  known  as 
the  Villa  of  Maecenas,  the  thousand  noisy  cataracts 
of  the  Cascatelle  leap  forth  beneath  the  old  masonry, 
and  sparkle  and  dance  and  foam  through  the  green — 
and  all  this  is  only  the  foreground  to  vast  distances 


S.   MARIA  DI  COLLEMAGGIO,  AQUILA.l 

of  dreamy  campagna,  seen  through  the  gnarled  hoary 
stems  of  grand  old  olive-trees — rainbow-hued  with 
every  delicate  tint  of  emerald  and  amethyst,  and 
melting  into  sapphire,  where  the  solitary  dome  of  St. 
Peter's  rises,  invincible  by  distance,  over  the  level 
line  of  the  horizon. 

And  the  beauty  is  not  confined  to  the  views  alone. 
Each  turn  of  the  winding  road  is  a  picture ;  deep 

^  From  "  Days  near  Rome." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  77 

ravines  of  solemn  dark-green  olives  which  waken  into 
silver  light  as  the  wind  shakes  their  leaves — old  con- 
vents and  chapels  buried  in  shady  nooks  on  the 
mountain-side — thickets  of  laurustinus,  roses,  genista, 
and  jessamine — banks  of  lilies  and  hyacinths,  ane- 
mones and  violets — grand  masses  of  grey  rock,  up 
which  white-bearded  goats  are  scrambling  to  nibble 


SOLMONA.l 

the  myrtle  and  rosemary,  and  knocking  down  showers 
of  the  red  tufa  on  their  way ; — and  a  road,  with  stone 
seats  and  parapets,  twisting  along  the  edge  of  the 
hill  through  a  constant  diorama  of  loveliness,  and 
peopled  by  groups  of  peasants  in  their  gay  dresses 
returning  from  their  work,  singing  in  parts  wild  can- 
zonetti  which  echo  amid  the  silent  hills,  or  by  women 
washing  at  the  wayside  fountains,  or  returning  with 


^  From  "  Days  near  Rome." 
VOL,  IV,  M 


178  THE    STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1874 

brazen  conche  poised  upon  their  heads,  like  stately 
statues  of  water-goddesses  wakened  into  life." 

Great  was  the  difificulty  of  securing  any 
companion  for  the  desolate  excursion  to  the 


HERMITAGE  OF  PIETRO  MURRONE.l 


Abruzzi,  but  at  length  I  found  a  clever  artist, 
Mr.  Donne,  who  agreed  to  go  with  me. 

^  From  *'Days  near  Rome," 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD        1 79 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Sora  in  the  MarsicUj  April  2. — Mr.  Donne  and  I 
left  the  train  at  Terni,  taking  diligence  to  Rieti,  the 
capital  of  the  Sabina.  Next  day  we  had  a  long  dreary 
drive  to  Aquila,  a  dismal  place,  but  full  of  curious  remains, 
surrounded  by  tremendous  snow  mountains.  Thence 
we  crossed  a  fearful  pass  in  ghastly  barren  mountains 


CASTI.E  OF  AVEZZANO.l 

to  Solmona,  a  wonderful  mediaeval  city  seldom  visited. 
On  Sunday  we  clambered  up  the  mountains  above 
the  town  to  the  hermitage  of  Pietro  Murrone,  after- 
wards Coelestine  V.,  and  then,  as  the  snow  was  too 
deep  to  make  it  possible  to  cross  the  mountain,  returned 
by  night  to  Aquila.  On  Tuesday  our  journey  of  a 
whole  day  was  through  perfectly  Lapland  scenery, 
the  road  a  mere  track  in  the  deep  snow,  which  covered 

^  From  *'Days  near  Rome." 


l80  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [l^74 

hedges  and  fields  alike.  Fortunately  the  weather  was 
lovely,  but  it  was  a  relief  to  come  down  again  to 


GATE  OF  ARPINUM.l 

even  partial  civilisation  at  Avezzano,  on  the  borders  of 
what  was  once  the  Lago  Fucino,  now  dried  up  and 
spoilt  by  Prince  Torlonia.    Here  I  had  an  introduction 

^  From  "  Days  near  Rome." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME  AND   ABROAD  18I 


to  Count  and  Countess  Resta,  to  whom  I  paid  a  most 
curious  visit.  On  Wednesday  we  drew  at  S.  Maria  di 
Luco,  a  picturesque  church  on  the  site  of  a  temple  above 
the  lake,  and  in  the  evening  came  on  here,  arriving  at 
2  A.M. — glorious  moonlight  and  grand  scenery,  but  the 
diligence  unspeakably  wretched.    We  have  just  been 


spending  a  charming  day,  partly  at  Arpino,  the  birth- 
place of  Cicero,  where  there  are  wonderful  Pelasgic 
remains,  and  a  gateway  which  is  the  oldest  architec- 
tural monument  in  Europe,  and  partly  at  Cicero's 
island  home  on  the  Liris,  a  lovely  place,  all  primroses 
and  violets  as  in  England,  but  with  a  background  of 
snow  mountains." 


^  From     Days  near  Rome." 


I82 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


Easter  Sunday^  1874. — The  Count  and  Countess 
de  Lutzow,  the  two  Miss  Seymours,  and  Miss  Ellis  ^ 
met  me  at  S.  Germano,  and  we  have  been  spending 
to-day  in  the  monastery  of  Monte  Cassino,  gloriously 
beautiful  always,  with  its  palatial  buildings  on  a 
mountain-top,  and  all  around   billows  of  purple  hill 


PORTO  S.  LORENZO,  AQUINO.- 


tipped  with  snow.  An  introduction  from  the  Duke  of 
Sermoneta  caused  the  gentle-looking  Abbot  to  receive 
us,  and  then  the  great  bent  figure  of  the  great  Tosti 
came  forward,  his  deep-set  eyes  excessively  striking. 
After  the  service  in  the  church  they  entertained  us  to 
an  excellent  dinner,  finishing  with  delicious  Aleatico 

^  Daughter  of  Lord  Howard  de  Walden,  afterwards  Duchess  of 
Sermoneta. 

-  From  "  Days  near  Rome." 


1874]       LITERARY    WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  83 

wine.  They  were  ^  spogliati^^  they  said,  but  ^  La 
Providenza'  still  watched  over  them." 

April  J, — In  the  second-class  carriage  of  the  train 
on  our  way  to  Velletri  sat  a  venerable  and  beautiful 
old  man,  to  whom  we  talked  of  Aquino,  the  birthplace 
of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  where  we  spent  yesterday. 
Gradually  we  found  out  that  he  was  the  Abbot  of 
Monte  Vergine,  and  he  told  us  much  that  was  interest- 
ing about  that  wonderful  place — of  the  intense  love 
and  veneration  of  the  Neapolitan  people  for  the  sanc- 
tuary, which  is  connected  with  the  different  events 
of  their  domestic  life;  that  no  betrothal  or  marriage 
or  birth  was  considered  entirely  consecrated  without 
receiving  a  benediction  at  the  sanctuary ;  that  peasant 
women  had  it  entered  in  their  marriage  contracts 
that  they  should  be  allowed  to  make  the  pilgrim- 
age from  time  to  time,  and  after  the  birth  of  each 
child ;  that  because,  on  account  of  the  suppression, 
two  miles  of  the  road  to  the  sanctuary  still  remained 
unfinished,  the  peasants  voluntarily  undertook  to  finish 
it  themselves,  30,000  persons  subscribing  one  soldo 
apiece ;  that  when,  at  the  same  time,  he,  the  Abbot, 
was  obliged  to  give  up  keeping  a  carriage,  five  Nea- 
poHtan  families  insisted  upon  undertaking  to  keep  one 
for  him,  one  paying  the  horses,  another  the  coachman, 
&c.  The  Abbot  gave  us  his  benediction  on  taking 
leave,  and  invited  us  to  Monte  Vergine."^ 

April  14. — I  met  Mademoiselle  von  Raasloff*  at 

^  This  excellent  old  Abbot  was  afterwards  cruelly  murdered  at 
Rome. 


i84 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


Mrs.  Terry's.  She  narrated  to  me  some  facts  which 
had  been  told  to  her  by  the  well-known  Dr.  Pereira. 

^'An  acquaintance  of  his,  a  lady,  was  travelling 
with  some  friends  in  an  out-of-the-way  part  of  Poland. 
Suddenly,  late  at  night,  their  carriage  broke  down  and 
they  were  obliged  to  get  out,  and  as  they  knew  of  no 
shelter  near,  they  were  in  great  difficulties.  At  this 
juncture  a  gentleman  appeared,  who  said  to  the  lady 
that  if  she  would  take  the  trouble  to  walk  a  few  steps 
farther,  she  would  come  to  the  gate  of  his  house ;  that 
he  was  unable  to  accompany  her,  but  that  if  she  would 
mention  his  name  she  would  be  received,  and  would 
find  all  she  required.  She  thanked  him  and  followed 
his  directions.  The  servant  to  whom  she  spoke  at 
the  house  seemed  very  much  surprised,  but  seeing 
her  plight,  brought  her  in,  left  her  in  a  library,  and 
went  to  get  some  refreshment.  When  she  was  alone, 
a  door  in  the  panelling  opened  and  the  unknown 
master  of  the  house  came  in  and  sat  down  by  her. 
As  he  said  nothing,  she  felt  rather  awkward,  and  more 
so  when  the  servant,  coming  in  with  a  tray,  seemed 
to  brush  up  close  to  him  in  a  very  odd  way  as  he 
set  it  down.  When  the  servant  left  the  room,  the  un- 
known said,  ^  Ne  vous  etonnez  pas.  Mademoiselle,  c'est 
que  je  suis  mort ; '  and  he  proceeded  to  say  that  he 
was  most  thankful  she  had  come,  and  that  he  wished 
her  to  make  him  a  solemn  promise;  that  the  people 
who  were  now  in  possession  of  the  property  were  not 
the  rightful  heirs,  but  that  he  had  left  a  will,  deposited 
with  a  certain  lawyer  in  a  certain  place,  the  name  of 
which  he  made  her  write  down.  She  listened  as  in 
a  trance,  but  did  as  she  was  bid.    The  servant,  coming 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  85 

in  again  about  this  time,  walked  straight  through  the 
unknown.  Presently  the  carriage,  being  mended,  was 
announced  to  be  at  the  door,  upon  which  the  unknown 
walked  with  her  to  the  porch,  bowed,  and  disappeared. 

When  the  lady  got  to  Warsaw,  she  had  an  attaque 
des  nerfs,  was  very  ill,  and  sent  for  Dr.  Pereira.  She 
told  him  all  she  had  seen,  and  also  gave  him  the 
paper  with  the  directions  she  had  written  down. 
Dr.  Pereira,  finding  that  the  person  and  place  men- 
tioned really  existed,  inquired  into  the  matter,  and  the 
result  was  that  the  will  was  found,  the  wrongful  pos- 
sessors ejected,  and  the  rightful  owners  set  up  in  their 
place." 

One  evening  at  the  Palazzo  Odescalchi,  when  every- 
*  body  had  been  telling  stories,  and  nothing  very  interest- 
ing. Mademoiselle  von  Raasloff  suddenly  astonished 
us  by  saying,  ^  Now  I  will  tell  you  something.^  Then 
she  said — 

'  There  was  a  young  lady  in  Denmark,  whose 
family,  from  circumstances,  had  lived  very  much  before 
the  Danish  world,  and  with  whom,  in  so  small  a  society 
as  that  of  Copenhagen,  almost  every  one  was  acquainted. 
Consequently  it  was  a  subject  of  interest,  almost  of 
universal  interest,  at  Copenhagen,  when  it  became 
known  that  this  young  lady,  with  the  full  approval 
of  her  parents  and  joyful  consent  of  every  one  con- 
cerned, had  become  engaged  to  a  young  Danish  officer 
of  good  family  and  position. 

'  Now  in  Danish  society  a  betrothal  is  considered 
to  be  almost  the  same  thing  as  a  marriage :  new  rela- 
tionships date  from  that  time,  and  if  either  the  affianced 
bride  or  bridegroom  die,  the  family  of  the  other  side 


I  86  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

mourn  as  for  a  son  or  brother,  as  if  the  marriage  had 
actually  taken  place. 

^  While  this  young  lady  ot  whom  I  have  spoken 
was  only  engaged,  her  betrothed  husband  was  sum- 
moned to  join  his  regiment  in  a  war  which  was  going 
on ;  and  very  soon  to  the  house  of  his  betrothed 
came  the  terrible  news  that  he  was  dead,  that  he  was 
killed  in  battle.  And  the  way  in  which  the  news 
came  was  this.  A  soldier  of  his  regiment  was  wounded 
and  was  taken  prisoner ;  and  as  he  was  lying  in  his 
cot  in  the  hospital,  he  said  to  his  companion  who  was 
in  the  next  bed,  I  saw  the  young  Colonel — I  saw 
the  young  Colonel  on  his  white  horse,  and  he  rode 
into  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  and  he  never  came  back 
again.''  And  the  man  who  said  that  died,  but  the  man 
to  whom  he  said  it  recovered,  and,  in  process  of  time, 
he  was  ransomed,  and  came  back  to  Copenhagen  and 
told  his  story  with  additions.  My  comrade,  who  is 
dead,  said  that  he  saw  the  young  Colonel  on  his  white 
horse,  and  that  he  saw  him  ride  into  the  ranks  of  the 
enemy  and  the  soldiers  of  the  enemy  drag  him  from 
his  horse  and  kill  him,  so  that  he  never  came  back 
again."  This  was  the  form  in  which  the  story  reached 
the  family  of  the  affianced  wife  of  the  young  Colonel, 
and  they  mourned  him  most  truly ;  for  they  loved  him 
much,  and  they  put  on  all  the  outward  signs  of  deepest 
grief.  There  was  only  one  person  who  would  not  put 
on  the  outward  signs  of  mourning,  and  that  was  his 
affianced  bride  herself.  She  said,  and  persisted  in 
saying,  that  she  could  not  believe  that,  where  two 
persons  had  been  as  entirely  united  as  she  and  her 
betrothed  had  been,  one  could  pass  entirely  out  of 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  87 

life  without  the  other  knowing  it.  That  her  lover  was 
sick,  in  prison,  in  trouble,  she  could  believe,  but  that 
he  was  dead — never,  without  her  having  an  inner  con- 
viction of  it ;  and  she  would  not  put  on  the  outward 
signs  of  mourning,  which  to  her  sense  implied  an  im- 
pression of  ill  omen.  Her  parents  urged  her  greatly, 
not  only  because  their  own  reality  of  grief  was 
very  great,  but  because,  according  to  the  feeling  of 
things  in  Copenhagen,  it  cast  a  very  great  slur  upon 
their  daughter  that  she  should  appear  without  the 
usual  signs  of  grief.  They  urged  her  ceaselessly, 
and  the  tension  of  mind  in  which  she  lived,  and  the 
perpetual  struggle  with  her  own  family,  added  to  her 
own  deep  grief,  had  a  very  serious  effect  upon  her. 

^  It  was  while  things  were  in  this  state  that  one 
day  she  dreamt — she  dreamt  that  she  received  a  letter 
from  her  betrothed,  and  in  her  dream  she  felt  that 
it  was  of  the  most  vital  importance  that  she  should  see 
the  date  of  that  letter ;  and  she  struggled  and  laboured  to 
see  it,  but  she  could  not  make  it  out ;  and  she  laboured 
on  with  the  utmost  intensity  of  effort,  but  she  could 
not  decipher  it ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  the  most  weari- 
some night  she  had  ever  spent,  so  incessant  was  her 
effort,  but  she  could  not  read  it  :  still  she  would  not 
give  it  up,  and  at  last,  just  as  the  dawn  was  breaking, 
she  saw  the  date  of  the  letter,  and  it  was  May  the  loth. 
The  effort  was  so  great  that  she  woke ;  but  the  date 
remained  with  her  still — it  was  May  the  lOth. 

^  Now  she  knew  that  if  such  a  letter  had  been  really 
written  on  the  lOth  of  May,  by  the  ist  of  June  she 
must  receive  that  letter. 

'The  next  morning,  when  her  father  came  in  to  see 


i88 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


her  before  she  was  up,  as  he  had  always  done  since 
their  great  sorrow,  he  was  surprised  to  find  her  not 
only  calm  and  serene,  but  almost  radiant.  She  said. 
You  have  often  blamed  me  for  not  wearing  the  out- 
ward signs  of  mourning  for  my  betrothed  :  grant  me 
now  only  till  the  ist  of  June,  and  the^i^  if  I  receive  no 
letter  from  him,  I  will  promise  to  resign  myself  to 
believe  the  worst,  and  I  will  do  as  you  desire.'^  Three 
weeks  of  terrible  tension  ensued,  and  the  ist  of  June 
arrived.  She  said  then  that  she  felt  as  if  her  whole 
future  life  hung  upon  the  postman's  knock.  It  came — 
and  there  was  the  letter !  Her  lover  had  been  taken 
prisoner,  communication  with  him  had  been  cut  off — in 
fact,  till  then  it  was  impossible  she  should  hear.  Soon 
afterwards  he  was  exchanged,  came  home,  and  they 
were  married. 

'  Now,'  said  Mademoiselle  von  Raaslofif,  as  she 
finished  her  narrative,  '  that  is  no  story  which  I  have 
heard.  The  young  lady  was  my  dear  mother;  she  is 
here  to  testify  to  it  :  the  young  officer  was  my  dear 
father.  General  von  Raasloff ;  he  is  here  to  confirm  it.' 
And  they  were  both  present." 

April  15. — There  is  a  pretty  young  American  lady 
at  the  table-d Iidte — most  amusing.  Here  are  some 
snatches  from  her  lips  : — 

^  I  wonder  if  the  old  masters  who  painted  such 
absurd  figures  of  saints  and  angels  meant  to  be  funny, 
or  if  they  were  only  funny  by  mistake.' 

^  Pity  is  Hke  eating  mustard  without  beef,  and  you 
wouldn't  hke  that,  would  you  ? ' 

^'  ^  I  was  at  a  pension  at  Castellamare — Miss  Baker's. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  89 

Avoid  it.  There  were  places  for  fifty  at  dinner,  and 
forty-nine  of  them  were  old  maids.  No  gentleman 
stayed — of  course  he  couldn't :  they  would  have  gobbled 
him  up  alive.' 

^  I  went  to  the  Trinita  to  hear  the  nuns  sing. 
The  nun  who  opened  the  door  said,  '^YouVe  too 
late  !  " — Well/'  I  said,  you  declared  I  was  too 
early  yesterday.  When  am  I  to  come  ?  " — Well,  I 
don't  know,"  she  said;  ''we're  always  changing." — 
"Well,  you  are  a  civil  old  party,  you  are,"  I  said — 
and  the  old  tigress  actually  slammed  the  door  in 
my  face.' 

"  '  Somebody  said  to  me  about  a  nigger  I  was  abusing 
that  I  shouldn't,  because  he  was  a  man  and  a  brother. 
"Well,  sir,  he  may  be  your  brother,"  I  said,  "but 
most  certainly  he  is  not  mine."  I  should  think  not 
indeed,  with  a  leg  that  comes  down  in  the  middle  of 
his  foot.' 

"  '  I  shall  be  burnt,  I  hope,  when  I  die.  I  feel  like 
the  old  lady  1  heard  of  the  other  day  who  knew  she 
was  getting  immensely  old  and  could  not  live  long, 
so  paid  down  three  thousand  dollars  to  have  a  good 
big  stove  made  right  off  at  once.' 

" '  I  hope  when  I'm  dying  my  people  won't  be 
able  to  go  on  pegging  away  at  their  dinner  just 
as  if  nothing  was  happening :  I  should  not  like  that 
at  all.'" 

To  Miss  Leycester. 

Assist)  April  26. — I  had  a  proposal  from  the 
Miss  Seymours  and  Miss  Ellis  that  if  I  would  wait 
at  Rome  till  Saturday  the  i8th,  they  would  set  off 


190  THE    STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  [1874 

with  me  in  search  of  the  lost  monastery  of  Farfa, 
which  was,  of  all  places,  the  one  I  wanted  most  to 
see,  and  from  which  fear  of  brigands  had  previously 
caused  all  my  companions  to  fail  at  the  last  moment. 
If  you  have  read  any  old  histories  of  Italy,  you  will 
remember  how  all-important  Farfa  was  in  the  Middle 


FARFAJ 

Ages,  and  will  wonder  that  no  one,  not  even  the  best 
Roman  antiquarians,  knew  anything  about  its  present 
state,  or  even  where  it  is.  We  could  only  judge  by 
old  maps  and  chronicles.  However,  the  excursion 
completely  answered,  and,  after  divers  little  adventures, 
which  ^  Days  near  Rome '  will  narrate,  we  not  only 

^  From  "  Days  near  Rome." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        I  9  I 

arrived  at  Farfa,  but  found  the  Father-General  of  the 
Benedictines  accidentally  there  to  receive  us.  Greatly 
astonished  he  was  at  our  arrival,  but  said  that  one 
enterprising  stranger  had  reached  the  place  three 
years  before — I  need  hardly  add,  an  Enghsh  lady. 
Really  Farfa  is  one  of  the  most  radiant  spots  in  Italy, 
and  the  sheets  oi  wild-flowers,  and   the  songs  of 


GATE  OF  CASAMARI.l 

nightingales  and  cuckoos  enhanced  its  charms.  My 
companions  were  so  delighted  that  they  consented, 
if  I  would  stay  till  Wednesday,  to  set  off  again  on  a 
long,  wild,  and  very  rough  tourette  to  the  monasteries 
of  the  Hernican  mountains.  So  on  the  22nd  we 
went  by  rail  to  Frosinone,  and  thence  drove  to  Casamari, 
going  on  by  a  grand  mountain  road  to  sleep  at  Alatri. 
The  next  day  we  rode  up  a  jagged  rock  path  for 

^  From  "Days  near  Rome." 


192 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


many  hours  to  the  Carthusian  Trisulti,  a  huge  monas- 
tery in  a  mountain  forest,  amid  Alpine  flowers  and 
close  under  the  snows.  Then  we  saw  the  famous 
Grottoes  of  Collepardo — a  sort  of  underground  Staffa, 
very  grand  indeed,  and  returned  at  night  to  Frosinone, 
and  next  day  to  Rome." 

Journal. 

^^May  4,  Florence, — General  von  Raasloff  is  here, 
and  says  that  a  friend  of  his  going  to  China  received 
endless  commissions  for  things  he  w^as  to  bring  home, 
but  that  only  one  of  the  people  who  gave  them  sent 
money  for  the  things  they  wanted.  On  his  return,  this 
commission  was  the  only  one  he  had  fulfilled.  His 
disappointed  friends  upbraided  him,  and  he  said, 
^  You  see  it  was  very  unfortunate,  but  when  we  were 
nearing  China,  I  spread  out  all  my  different  com- 
missions on  the  deck  that  I  might  examine  them, 
and  I  put  the  money  for  each  on  the  paper  to  which 
it  belonged :  and — it  was  very  unfortunate,  but  my 
attention  was  called  away  for  an  instant,  and  behold 
a  great  gust  of  wind  had  come,  and  all  those  com- 
missions which  were  not  weighted  by  money  had 
been  blown  far  out  to  sea,  and  I  never  saw  them 
again.' 

Mademoiselle  von  Raasloff  told  me  that — 
Count  Piper,  an  ancestor  of  the  present  Count 
Piper,  was  a  very  determined  gambler.  Being  once 
at  one  of  his  desolate  country  estates,  he  was  in 
perfect  despair  for  some  one  to  play  with  him,  but 
he  was  alone.  At  last,  in  a  fit  of  desperation,  he  said, 
^  If  the  devil  himself  were  to  come  to  play  with  me. 


1 874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        1 93 

I  should  be  grateful.'  Soon  a  tremendous  storm 
began  to  rage,  during  which  a  servant  came  in  and 
said  that  a  gentleman  overtaken  by  night  was  travel- 
ling past,  and  implored  shelter.  Count  Piper  was 
quite  enchanted,  and  a  very  gentlemanlike  man  was 
shown  in.  Supper  was  served,  and  then  Count  Piper 
proposed  a  game  of  cards,  in  which  the  stranger  at 
once  acquiesced.  Count  Piper  won  so  enormously, 
that  he  felt  quite  ashamed,  and  at  last  he  proposed 
their  retiring.  As  they  were  leaving  the  room,  the 
stranger  said,  ^  I  am  very  much  concerned  that  I 
have  not  sufficient  money  with  me  to  pay  all  my 
debt  now;  however,  I  shall  beg  you  to  take  my  ring 
as  a  guarantee,  which  is  really  of  greater  value  than 
the  money,  and  which  has  very  peculiar  properties, 
one  of  which  is  that  as  long  as  you  wear  it,  all  you 
possess  is  safe  from  fire.'  The  Count  took  the  ring, 
and  escorting  the  stranger  to  his  room,  wished  him 
good-night.  The  next  morning  he  sent  to  inquire 
after  him :  he  was  not  there,  his  bed  had  not  been 
slept  in,  and  he  never  was  heard  of  again.  Count 
Piper  wore  the  ring,  but  after  some  time,  as  it  was 
very  heavy  and  old-fashioned,  he  took  it  off  and  put 
it  away.  The  next  morning  came  the  news  that  one 
of  his  finest  farm-houses  had  been  burnt  down.  And 
so  it  always  is  in  that  family.  The  descendants  of 
Count  Piper  always  have  to  wear  the  ring,  and  if 
ever  they  leave  it  off  for  a  single  day,  one  of  their 
houses  on  one  of  their  great  estates  is  burnt." 


Florence^  May  lO. — Ten  days  here  in  the  radiant 
spring-tide  have  been  very  delightful.    I  have  seen 

VOL.  IV.  N 


194 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1874 


a  great  deal  of  Mrs.  Ross^  Lady  Duff  Gordon's 
beautiful  daughter,  who  is  now  writing  the  story  of 
her  mother's  life.  She  has  a  noble  head,  which  is 
almost  more  full  of  expression  than  that  of  any  one  I 
know,  and  I  am  sure  that  her  character  is  noble  too, 
with  all  the  smallnesses  of  life,  which  make  a  thoroughly 
anglicised  character  ignoble,  washed  out,  and  its 
higher  qualities  remaining  to  be  mingled  with  the 
Italian  frankness  and  kindly  simplicity  which  English- 
English  do  not  possess,  and  consequently  cannot 
understand.  Her  singing  to  a  guitar  is  capital — 
chiefly  of  Italian  stornelliy  rendered  with  all  the  verve 
which  a  contadina  herself  could  give  them.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  Italians  adore  her.  Each  summer  she  and 
her  husband  spend  at  Castagnuolo  with  the  Marchese 
Lotteria  della  Stufa,  the  great  friend  of  her  father, 
who  died  in  his  arms.  This  is  ^  II  Marchese '  par 
excellence  with  the  Florentines,  to  whom  he  is  public 
property.  When  a  child  accidentally  shot  him  with 
a  pistol  through  the  crown  of  his  hat,  thousands  of 
people  thronged  the  street  before  his  house  to  inquire, 
and  in  all  the  villages  round  his  native  valley  of  Signa 
the  price  of  wax  went  up  for  a  fortnight,  so  many 
candles  were  burnt  to  the  Madonna  as  thank-offerings 
for  his  escape.  The  next  day,  as  he  was  crossing 
one  of  the  bridges,  he  met  Giacomo,  a  flyman  he 
knew,  driving  a  carriage  full  of  very  respectable  old 
Scotch  ladies.  Giacomo  flung  his  reins  on  the  box, 
and  rushing  up  to  the  Marchese,  threw  himself  sob- 
bing on  his  breast. 

I  have  been  out  with  Mrs.  Ross  to  the  Stufa 
villa  of  Castagnuolo,  seven  miles  off,  near  the  Badia  di' 


1874]       LITERARY    WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        1 95 

Settimo,  in  a  tiny  baroccinOj  drawn  by  Tocco,  the 
smallest  of  spirited  ponies,  and  with  Picco,  the  weest 
terrier  ever  seen,  upon  our  knees.  As  we  turned 
up  from  the  highroad  to  the  villa  on  the  hills  through 
the  rich  luxuriant  vineyards,  the  warmest  welcome 
met  us  from  all  the  peasants,  and  Mrs.  Ross  received 
them  with  ^Ah,  caro  Maso,  e  come  va  la  moglie/ — 


LA  BADIA  DI  SETTIMO.l 


^  Addio,  caro  Guido  mio.'  In  a  house  in  the  grounds 
— a  ^ podere' — the  whole  famil}^  of  inmates  thronged 
round  her  with  ^Vi  pigHero  un  consiglio,  Signora/ 
about  a  sick  child.  We  wandered  up  the  woods, 
gathering  lovely  wild  orchids,  and  then  went  to  the 
farm,  where  the  creatures,  Hke  the  people,  seemed 
to  regard  Mrs.  Ross  as  one  of  themselves :  the  cows 
came  and  Hcked  her,  the  sheep  came  and  rubbed 

^  From  "  Florence." 


196  THE    STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

against  her,  the  pigeons  perched,  and  even  the  wild 
boars  were  gentleness  itself.  She  was  first  able  to 
make  her  way  at  Castagnuolo  by  nursing  day  and 
night  an  old  contadiiw  who  died  in  her  arms.  She 
described  comically,  though  pathetically,  the  frantic 
grief  which  ensued  :  how  the  son,  Antonio,  tried  to 
drown  himself,  and  was  pulled  out  of  the  water  by 
his  breeches :  how  the  whole  family  insisted  upon 
being  bled  :  how  a  married  daughter,  a  niece,  and  a 
cousin  came  and  had  strong  convulsions ;  and  how, 
when  she  ventured  to  leave  them  for  a  little  to  go  to 
her  dinner,  the  fattore  rushed  after  her  with — '  Ma 
Signora,  tutte  le  donne  son  svenute ; '  ^  how  eventually 
she  locked  up  each  separately  for  the  night  with  a 
basin  of  soup,  having  made  them  a  little  speech,  &c. 
Whenever  any  of  the  contadini  have  burns,  they 
are  cured  by  poultices  of  arum-leaves. 

All  is  simple,  graceful  goodness  at  Castagnuolo." 

Venice y  May,  —  I  feel  that  I  am  now  learning 
much  about  masters  I  never  knew  before.  One  is 
introduced  to  them  at  one  place  and  continues  the 
acquaintance  at  another,  till  one  becomes  really  in- 
timate. Marco  Basaiti  is  the  best  of  these  new  friends, 
with  his  sad  shadowy  figures  always  painted  against 
an  afterglow.  One  learns  how,  as  Savonarola  says, 
^  every  painter  pajnts  himself.  However  varied  his 
subjects,  his  works  bear  the  sign -manual  of  his 
thought.' 2 

^'  At  Milan,  on  the  Eve  of  S.  Ambrogio,  an  American 

^  All  the  women  have  fainted. 
Sermon  on  Ezekiel. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK    AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD        I  97 

next  me  at  the  tablc-d' lidte  said  to  his  neighbour  oppo- 
site, 'I  have  been,  Marm,  to  see  St.  Ambrose;  and  I 
say,  Marm,  do  you  kno\^that  to-morrow  they  are  going 
to  tootle  the  old  gentleman  all  round  the  town  ? '  " 

In  returning  from  Italy  this  year  I  made 
the  excursion  to  the  curious  shrine  of  Paray  le 


AT  MILAN. 


Monial  which  I  have  described  in  an  article 
in  Evening  Hours,  All  the  time  I  had  been 
abroad,  as  during  my  tour  in  Spain,  I  had  sent 
monthly  articles  to  Good  Words,  for  which  I 
was  paid  at  the  rate  of  five  guineas  a  page — 
a  sum,  I  believe,  given  besides  only  to  Dean 

^  P'rom  "Northern  Italy." 


198 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


Alford  and  Arthur  Stanley.  But  those  were 
the  palmy  days  of  the  magazine.  I  was  paid 
much  less  afterwards,  till^  it  came  down  to  a 
fifth  of  that  sum.  I  spent  the  rest  of  the 
summer  in  London.     It  was  during  this  year 


PAR  AY  LE  M0NIAI..1 

that  I  became  a  member  ot  the  Athenaeum 
Club  —  an  incalculable  advantage.  Twelve 
years  before,  old  Dr.  Hawtrey,  the  Provost  of 
Eton,  had  said  to  me,  ''You  ought  to  be  a 
member  of  the  Athenaeum,"  and  I  had  answered 


'  From    North-Eastern  France." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        1 99 

Then  I  wish  you  would  propose  me."  But 
I  had  quite  forgotten  about  this,  and  had  never 
known  that  the  kind  old  man,  long  since  dead, 
had  really  done  it ;  so  the  news  that  my  name 
was  just  coming  up  for  ballot  was  a  joyful 
surprise.  I  have  since  spent  every  London 
morning  in  steady  work  at  the  Athenaeum,  less 
disturbed  there  than  even  at  Holmhurst.  The 
difficulties  \yhich  the  club  rules  throw  in  the 
way  of  receiving  visitors  are  a  great  advantage 
to  students,  and  my  life  at  the  Athenaeum  has 
been  as  regular  as  clockwork.  At  breakfast 
I  have  always  occupied  the  same  table, — 
behind  the  door  leading  to  the  kitchen,  the 
one  which,  I  believe,  was  always  formerly  used 
by  Wilberforce.  In  the  afternoons,  when  all 
the  old  gentlemen  arrive,  to  poke  up  huge 
fires  in  winter  and  close  all  the  windows  in 
summer,  I  have  never  returned  to  the  club. 

Journal. 

London^  June  {in  the  Park). — Fine  Lady. — 'How 
strange  it  is  to  see  all  these  smart  carriages  driving 
about  and  nobody  in  them/ 

My  simple  self. — '  Nobody  in  them  !  why,  they  are 
quite  full  of  people.' 

Fine  Lady. — 'Ah,  ye-es — people^  but  nobody  all 
the  same.  We  never  drive  in  the  Park  now.  It  was 
only  to  show  you  this  mob  that  I  came.    We  are 


200 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


obliged  to  retreat,  though,  before  their  advancing 
battaHons.  They  pursue  us  everywhere.  There  is 
no  humihation  and  suffering  they  won't  undergo  in 
the  chase.  They  drove  us  out  of  the  Row  long  ago, 
and  this  year  we  took  a  row  of  chairs  on  Sunday 
afternoons  on  a  little  rising  ground  between  Albert 
Gate  and  Stanhope  Gate ;  ^  but  the  enemy  pursued  us, 
and  as  they  always  get  the  better  of  us,  we  shall  be 
obliged  to  yield  that  position  too.  There  is  never  any 
safety  from  them  but  in  flight,  for  they  are  certainly 
our  superiors  in — numbers.'  " 

June  22. — Went  to  see  Madame  du  Quaire,^  whom 
I  found  in  her  low  French-looking  room  in  Wilton 
Street,  perfectly  covered  with  pictures  and  oggetti.  She 
talked  of  spiritualism — how  she  had  been  to  a  meet- 
ing at  Mrs.  Gregory's — *  a  truthful  woman,  who  would 
not  stand  imposture  if  she  knew  it.'  She  ^cottoned' 
up  the  medium,  '  parcequ'il  faut  mieux  s'adresser  a 
Dieu  qu'a  ses  saints.'  They  sat  in  the  dark,  which 
was  depressing.  Soon  after  she  felt  a  shock  Mike 
a  torpedo,'  and  something  hke  the  leg  of  a  chair  came 
and  scratched  her  head.  A  voice  called  her  and  said, 
'  I  am  John  King,  and  I  want  you,  Madame  du  Quaire ; 
I  have  got  something  for  you.'  'Then,'  said  Madame 
du  Q.,  '  he  gave  me  a  sort  of  chain  of  sharks'  teeth  ;  the 
kind  of  thing  of  which,  when  it  was  given  to  some  one 
at  Honolulu,  the  recipient  inquired,  C'est  un  collier  ?  " 
— Mais  pardon,"  said  the  donor,    c'est  une  robe."  ' 

^  Afterwards  known  as     Sunday  Hill." 

^  Fanny  Blackett,  Vicomtesse  du  Quaire,  who  died,  universally  be 
loved  and  regretted,  in  the  spring  of  1895. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD        20  I 

June  24. — I  dined  with  Lord  Ravensworth  at 
Percy's  Cross,  and  he  told  me — 

^^When  I  was  a  young  man,  I  was  staying  at 
Balnagowan  with  Lady  Mary  Ross.  She  had  a  son 
and  daughter.  The  daughter  was  a  very  handsome, 
charming  girl.  One  day  I  was  walking  with  her,  and 
she  told  me  that  when  her  brother  was  ill  of  the 
measles,  at  their  other  place,  Bonnington,  where  the 
Falls  of  the  Clyde  are,  an  old  nurse  who  lived  at 
the  lodge  some  way  off  used  to  come  up  and  sit  by 
him  in  the  day,  returning  home  at  night.  One 
morning  when  she  arrived,  she  was  most  dreadfully 
depressed,  and  being  questioned  as  to  the  cause,  said, 
'  I  am  na  lang  for  this  warld ;  and  not  only  me,  but 
a  greater  than  I  is  na  lang  for  this  warld — and 
that  is  the  head  o'  this  hoose.'  And  she  said  that 
as  she  was  walking  home,  two  lights  came  out  of 
the  larches  and  flitted  before  her:  one  was  a  feeble 
light,  close  to  the  ground ;  the  other  a  large  bright 
light  higher  up.  They  passed  before  her  to  the  park 
gates  and  then  disappeared.  'And,'  she  said,  'I 
know  that  the  feeble  light  is  myself,  and  the  greater 
light  is  the  head  o'  this  hoose.' 

A  few  days  afterwards  the  old  woman  took  a  cold 
and  died,  and  within  a  fortnight  Sir  C.  Ross  died  too,^ 
while  the  little  boy  recovered  and  is  alive  still." 

Captain  Fisher,  who  is  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried to  Victoria  Liddell,  told  me  that — 

'  When  Mr.  Macpherson  of  Glen  Truim  was  dying, 
i  Feb.  8,  1814. 


202  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

his  wife  had  gone  to  rest  in  a  room  looking  out  over 
the  park,  and  sat  near  the  window.  Suddenly  she 
saw  lights  as  of  a  carriage  coming  in  at  the  distant 
lodge-gate,  and  calling  to  one  of  the  servants,  said, 
'  Do  go  down ;  some  one  is  coming  who  does  not  know 
of  all  this  grief/  But  the  servant  remained  near  her 
at  the  window,  and  as  the  carriage  came  near  the 
house,  they  saw  it  was  a  hearse  drawn  by  four  horses 
and  covered  with  figures.  As  it  stopped  at  the  porch 
door,  the  figures  looked  up  at  her,  and  their  eyes  glared 
with  light ;  then  they  scrambled  down  a^jd  seemed  to 
disappear  into  the  house.  Soon  they  reappeared  and 
seemed  to  lift  some  heavy  weight  into  the  hearse, 
which  then  drove  off  at  full  speed,  causing  all  the  stones 
and  gravel  to  fly  up  at  the  windows.  Mrs.  Macpherson 
and  the  butler  had  not  rallied  from  their  horror  and 
astonishment,  when  the  nurse  watching  in  the  next 
room  came  in  to  tell  her  that  the  Colonel  was  dead. 

I  was  surprised  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Hungerford 
was  in  London,  and  asked  why  she  had  left  Ireland 
so  unexpectedly.  I  was  told  she  had  had  a  great  fright 
— then  I  heard  what  it  was. 

She  was  in  her  room  in  the  evening  in  her 
beautiful  house,  which  looks  out  upon  a  lake,  beyond 
which  rise  hills  wooded  with  fir-trees.  Suddenly,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  lake,  she  saw  a  form  which 
seemed — with  sweeping  garments — to  move  forward 
upon  the  water.  It  was  gigantic.  Mrs.  Hungerford 
screamed,  and  her  sister.  Miss  Cropper  (who  afterwards 
married  Mr.  Jerome),  and  the  nurse  came  to  her  from 
the  inner  nursery.    The  three  remained  at  the  window 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  203 

for  some  time,  but  retreated  as  the  figure  advanced, 
and  at  length — being  then  so  tall  that  it  reached  to  the 
second  floor — looked  in  at  the  window,  and  disclosed 
the  most  awful  face  of  a  hideous  old  woman. 

It  was  a  Banshee,  and  one  of  the  family  died 
immediately  afterwards/' 

Captain  Fisher  also  told  us  this  really  extra- 
ordinary story  connected  with  his  own  family: — 

*^  Fisher  may  sound  a  very  plebeian  name,  but  this 
family  is  of  very  ancient  lineage,  and  for  many  hundreds 
of  years  they  have  possessed  a  very  curious  old  place 
in  Cumberland,  which  bears  the  weird  name  of  Croglin 
Grange.  The  great  characteristic  of  the  house  is  that 
never  at  any  period  of  its  very  long  existence  has  it 
been  more  than  one  story  high,  but  it  has  a  terrace 
from  which  large  grounds  sweep  away  towards  the 
church  in  the  hollow,  and  a  fine  distant  view. 

''When,  in  lapse  of  years,  the  Fishers  outgrew 
Croglin  Grange  in  family  and  fortune,  they  were  wise 
enough  not  to  destroy  the  long-standing  characteristic 
of  the  place  by  adding  another  story  to  the  house,  but 
they  went  away  to  the  south,  to  reside  at  Thorncombe 
near  Guildford,  and  they  let  Croglin  Grange. 

''They  were  extremely  fortunate  in  their  tenants, 
two  brothers  and  a  sister.  They  heard  their  praises 
from  all  quarters.  To  their  poorer  neighbours  they 
were  all  that  is  most  kind  and  beneficent,  and  their 
neighbours  of  a  higher  class  spoke  of  them  as  a  most 
welcome  addition  to  the  little  society  of  the  neighbour- 
hood.   On  their  part  the  tenants  were  greatly  delighted 


204  THE    STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

with  their  new  residence.  The  arrangement  of  the 
house,  which  would  have  been  a  trial  to  many,  was  not 
so  to  them.  In  every  respect  Croglin  Grange  was 
exactly  suited  to  them. 

''The  winter  was  spent  most  happily  by  the  new 
inmates  of  Croglin  Grange,  who  shared  in  all  the 
little  social  pleasures  of  the  district,  and  made  them- 
selves very  popular.  In  the  following  summer,  there 
was  one  day  which  was  dreadfully,  annihilatingly  hot. 
The  brothers  lay  under  the  trees  with  their  books,  for 
it  was  too  hot  for  any  active  occupation.  The  sister 
sat  in  the  verandah  and  worked,  or  tried  to  work,  for, 
in  the  intense  sultriness  of  that  summer  day,  work 
was  next  to  impossible.  They  dined  early,  and  after 
dinner  they  still  sat  out  in  the  verandah,  enjoying  the 
cool  air  which  came  with  evening,  and  they  watched 
the  sun  set,  and  the  moon  rise  over  the  belt  of  trees 
which  separated  the  grounds  from  the  churchyard, 
seeing  it  mount  the  heavens  till  the  whole  lawn  was 
bathed  in  silver  light,  across  which  the  long  shadows 
from  the  shrubbery  fell  as  if  embossed,  so  vivid  and 
distinct  were  they. 

''When  they  separated  for  the  night,  all  retiring 
to  their  rooms  on  the  ground-floor  (for,  as  I  said,  there 
was  no  upstairs  in  that  house),  the  sister  felt  that  the 
heat  was  still  so  great  that  she  could  not  sleep,  and 
having  fastened  her  window,  she  did  not  close  the 
shutters — in  that  very  quiet  place  it  was  not  necessary 
— and,  propped  against  the  pillows,  she  still  watched 
the  wonderful,  the  marvellous  beauty  of  that  summer 
night.  Gradually  she  became  aware  of  two  lights, 
two  lights  which  flickered  in  and  out  in  the  belt  of 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK    AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD        20  5 

trees  which  separated  the  lawn  from  the  churchyard, 
and  as  her  gaze  became  fixed  upon  them,  she  saw  them 
emerge,  fixed  in  a  dark  substance,  a  definite  ghastly 
somethings  which  seemed  every  moment  to  become 
nearer,  increasing  in  size  and  substance  as  it  ap- 
proached. Every  now  and  then  it  was  lost  for  a 
moment  in  the  long  shadows  which  stretched  across 
the  lawn  from  the  trees,  and  then  it  emerged  larger 
than  ever,  and  still  coming  on — on.  As  she  watched 
it,  the  most  uncontrollable  horror  seized  her.  She 
longed  to  get  away,  but  the  door  was  close  to  the 
window  and  the  door  was  locked  on  the  inside,  and 
while  she  was  unlocking  it,  she  must  be  for  an  instant 
nearer  to  it.  She  longed  to  scream,  but  her  voice 
seemed  paralysed,  her  tongue  glued  to  the  roof  of 
her  mouth. 

Suddenly,  she  never  could  explain  why  afterwards, 
the  terrible  object  seemed  to  turn  to  one  side,  seemed 
to  be  going  round  the  house,  not  to  be  coming  to  her 
at  all,  and  immediately  she  jumped  out  of  bed  and 
rushed  to  the  door,  but  as  she  was  unlocking  it,  she 
heard  scratch,  scratch,  scratch  upon  the  window,  and 
saw  a  hideous  brown  face  with  flaming  eyes  glaring 
in  at  her.  She  rushed  back  to  the  bed,  but  the 
creature  continued  to  scratch,  scratch,  scratch  upon 
the  window.  She  felt  a  sort  of  mental  comfort  in  the 
knowledge  that  the  window  was  securely  fastened  on 
the  inside.  Suddenly  the  scratching  sound  ceased, 
and  a  kind  of  pecking  sound  took  its  place.  Then,  in 
her  agony,  she  became  aware  that  the  creature  was 
unpicking  the  lead  !  The  noise  continued,  and  a 
diamond  pane  of  glass  fell  into  the  room.    Then  a 


206  THE    STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  [1874 

long  bony  finger  of  the  creature  came  in  and  turned 
the  handle  of  the  window,  and  the  window  opened, 
and  the  creature  came  in  ;  and  it  came  across  the  room, 
and  her  terror  was  so  great  that  she  could  not  scream, 
and  it  came  up  to  the  bed,  and  it  twisted  its  long, 
bony  fingers  into  her  hair,  and  it  dragged  her  head 
over  the  side  of  the  bed,  and — it  bit  her  violently  in 
the  throat. 

As  it  bit  her,  her  voice  was  released,  and  she 
screamed  with  all  her  might  and  main.  Her  brothers 
rushed  out  of  their  rooms,  but  the  door  was  locked 
on  the  inside.  A  moment  was  lost  while  they  got  a 
poker  and  broke  it  open.  Then  the  creature  had 
already  escaped  through  the  window,  and  the  sister, 
bleeding  violently  from  a  wound  in  the  throat,  was  lying 
unconscious  over  the  side  of  the  bed.  One  brother 
pursued  the  creature,  which  fled  before  him  through 
the  moonlight  with  gigantic  strides,  and  eventually 
seemed  to  disappear  over  the  wall  into  the  church- 
yard. Then  he  rejoined  his  brother  by  the  sister's 
bedside.  She  was  dreadfully  hurt  and  her  wound 
was  a  very  definite  one,  but  she  was  of  strong  dis- 
position, not  given  either  to  romance  or  superstition, 
and  when  she  came  to  herself  she  said,  ^  What  has 
happened  is  most  extraordinary  and  I  am  very  much 
hurt.  It  seems  inexplicable,  but  of  course  there  is 
an  explanation,  and  we  must  wait  for  it.  It  will  turn 
out  that  a  lunatic  has  escaped  from  some  asylum  and 
found  his  way  here.'  The  w^ound  healed  and  she 
appeared  to  get  well,  but  the  doctor  who  was  sent 
for  to  her  would  not  believe  that  she  could  bear  so 
terrible  a  shock  so  easily,  and  insisted  that  she  must 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  20/ 

have  change,  mental  and  physical ;  so  her  brothers 
took  her  to  Switzerland. 

Being  a  sensible  girl,  when  she  went  abroad,  she 
threw  herself  at  once  into  the  interests  of  the  country 
she  was  in.  She  dried  plants,  she  made  sketches,  she 
went  up  mountains,  and,  as  autumn  came  on,  she 
was  the  person  who  urged  that  they  should  return 
to  Croglin  Grange.  ^  We  have  taken  it,^  she  said,  '  for 
seven  years,  and  we  have  only  been  there  one ;  and 
we  shall  always  find  it  difficult  to  let  a  house  which 
is  only  one  story  high,  so  we  had  better  return  there ; 
lunatics  do  not  escape  every  day.'  As  she  urged  it, 
her  brothers  wished  nothing  better,  and  the  family 
returned  to  Cumberland.  From  there  being  no  up- 
stairs in  the  house,  it  was  impossible  to  make  any 
great  change  in  their  arrangements.  The  sister  occu- 
pied the  same  room,  but  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  she 
always  closed  her  shutters,  which,  however,  as  in  many 
old  houses,  always  left  one  top  pane  of  the  window 
uncovered.  The  brothers  moved,  and  occupied  a  room 
together  exactly  opposite  that  of  their  sister,  and  they 
always  kept  loaded  pistols  in  their  room. 

The  winter  passed  most  peacefully  and  happily. 
In  the  following  March  the  sister  was  suddenly 
awakened  by  a  sound  she  remembered  only  too  well 
— scratch,  scratch,  scratch  upon  the  window,  and 
looking  up,  she  saw,  cHmbed  up  to  the  topmost  pane 
of  the  window,  the  same  hideous  brown  shrivelled 
face,  with  glaring  eyes,  looking  in  at  her.  This  time 
she  screamed  as  loud  as  she  could.  Her  brothers 
rushed  out  of  their  room  with  pistols,  and  out  of  the 
front  door.    The  creature  was  already  scudding  away 


208 


THE    STORY  OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


across  the  lawn.  One  of  the  brothers  fired  and  hit 
it  in  the  leg,  but  still  with  the  other  leg  it  continued 
to  make  way,  scrambled  over  the  wall  into  the  church- 
yard, and  seemed  to  disappear  into  a  vault  which 
belonged  to  a  family  long  extinct. 

^'The  next  day  the  brothers  summoned  all  the 
tenants  of  Croglin  Grange,  and  in  their  presence  the 
vault  was  opened.  A  horrible  scene  revealed  itself. 
The  vault  was  full  of  coffins ;  they  had  been  broken 
open,  and  their  contents,  horribly  mangled  and  dis- 
torted, were  scattered  over  the  floor.  One  coffin  alone 
remained  intact.  Of  that  the  lid  had  been  lifted,  but 
still  lay  loose  upon  the  coffin.  They  raised  it,  and 
there,  brown,  withered,  shrivelled,  mummified,  but  quite 
entire,  was  the  same  hideous  figure  which  had  looked 
in  at  the  windows  of  Croglin  Grange,  with  the  marks 
of  a  recent  pistol-shot  in  the  leg ;  and  they  did — the 
only  thing  that  can  lay  a  vampire — they  burnt  it.^' 

Journal. 

Highcliffey  Jtme  30,  1874. — It  is  delightful  to  be 
here  again.  I  came  on  Friday  with  Everard  Prim- 
rose,^ a  friend  who  always  especially  interests  me,  in 
spite  of  the  intense  melancholy  which  always  makes 
him  say  that  he  longs  for  an  early  death. 

''This  place,  so  spiritually  near  the  gates  of  heaven, 
is  a  great  rest — quite  a  halt  in  life — after  London, 
which,  though  I  thought  it  filled  with  all  great  and 
beautiful  things,  packs  in  too  much,  so  that  one  loses 
breath  mentally.    Here  all  is  still,  and  the  touching 

^  Hon.  E.  Primrose,  second  son  of  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland  by  her 
first  marriage  with  Lord  Dalmeny. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK    AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD  20g 


past  and  earnestly  hopeful  future  lend  a  wonderful 
charm  to  the  quiet  life  of  the  present.  '  Les  beaux 
jours  sont  la;  on  ne  les  voit  pas,  on  les  sent.'^ 

^^The  dear  lady  of  the  castle  is  not  looking  well. 
I  believe  it  is  owing  to  her  conversion  to  Lady  Jane 
Ellice's  teetotaHsm  ;  but  she  says  it  is  not  that.  Lady 
Jane  herself  is  a  perpetual  sunshine,  which  radiates  on 
all  around  her  and  is  quite  enchanting.  Miss  Lindsay 
is  the  only  other  guest.  In  the  evening  Lady  Jane 
sings  and  Miss  Lindsay  recites — most  wonderfully — 
out  of  Shakspeare,  with  great  power  and  pathos. 

It  has  not  been  fine  weather,  but  we  have  had 
delightful  walks  on  the  sand,  by  the  still  sad-looking 
sea,  with  the  Isle  of  Wight  and  its  Needles  rising  in 
the  faint  distance,  or  in  the  thick  woods  of  wind-blown 
ilex  and  arbutus.  One  day  we  went  to  '  the  Haven 
House,'  which  is  a  place  that  often  comes  back  to 
my  recollection — picturesquely,  gauntly  standing  on 
a  tongue  of  land  at  the  meeting  of  river  and  bay,  at 
the  end  of  a  weird  pine-wood,  where  the  gnarled 
roots  of  the  trees  all  writhe  seawards  out  of  the  sand. 
Here  groups  of  children  were  at  play  on  the  little 
jetties  of  sea-weedy  stones  and  timber,  while  a  row 
of  herons  were  catching  fish — solitarily — at  great 
intervals,  in  the  bay. 

''Lady  Mary  Lambart  came  last  night — a  simple, 
self-composed  girl,  with  a  pale  face  and  golden  hair. 
She  lives  exclusively  with  her  aunt.  Lady  Alicia 
Blackwood. 

''Yesterday,  in  the  'Lady  Chapel'  of  the  great 
church  at  Christ-Church,  I  suddenly  came  upon  the 

^  Cambry. 

VOL.  IV,  0 


2IO 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1874 


tomb  of  Mary  Morgan,  who  died  in  1796.  She  was 
companion  to  my  great-aunt,  the  unhappy  Countess  of 
Strathmore,  and  this  monument  was  dedicated  'to 
the  most  rare  of  all  connections,  a  perfect  and  dis- 
interested friend,  by  the  Countess  of  Strathmore,  who, 
conscious  of  the  treasure,  valued  its  possession  and 


THE  GARDEN  TERRACE,  HIGHCLIFFE.l 


mourned  its  loss.  ...  To  her  heroic  qualities,  her 
cool  deliberate  courage,  and  her  matchless  persevering 
friendship,  the  tears  of  blood  shed  by  one  w^ho  despises 
weakness,  the  records  of  law  and  justice,  and  perhaps 
even  the  historic  page,  will  bear  witness  to  an 
astonished  and  admiring  posterity.' 

^  From    The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives/' 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK    AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  211 


On  the  whole,  Christ  Church  is  dull  inside :  it 
is  so  vast,  and  chiefly  perpendicular.  The  old  tombs 
are  used  as  pedestals  for  modern  monuments,  and 
the  old  gravestones,  stripped  of  their  brasses,  have 
modern  epitaphs  inserted  between  the  ancient  gothic 
inscriptions.  Outside,  the  position  is  beautiful,  on 
a  little  height  above  the  river,  near  which  are  some 
old  ruins,  and  which  winds  away  to  the  sea  through 


THE  HAVEN  HOUSE.  ^ 


flat  reedy  meadow-lands,  still  marked  by  sails  of  boats 
where  its  outline  is  lost  in  distance.'^ 

June  30. — Mrs.  Hamilton  Hamilton  came  last 
night.  She  was  a  daughter  of  Sir  G.  Robinson. 
Her  father's  aide-de-camp,  Captain  Campbell,  a  poor 
man,  wanted  to  marry  her,  and  she  was  attached  to 
him ;  but  it  was  not  allowed,  and  they  were  separated. 
She  was  married  to   Mr.    Hamilton   Hamilton,  but 

1  From  "The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


2  12  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1874 

Captain  Campbell  never  ceased  to  think  of  her,  and 
he  was  ambitious  for  her  sake,  and  became  Sir  Colin 
Campbell  and  Lord  Clyde.  Afterwards,  when  she 
was  free,  it  was  thought  he  would  marry  her.  He 
sent  her  an  Indian  shawl,  and  he  wrote  to  her,  and 
he  came  to  see  her,  but  he  never  proposed ;  and  she 
waited  and  expected,  and  at  last  she  heard  he  had 
said,  ^  No,  it  could  not  be ;  people  would  say  it  was 
absurd.'  But  it  would  not  have  been  absurd  at  all, 
and  she  would  have  liked  it  very  much. 

'^One  always  feels  here  as  if  one  did  not  half  appreciate 
the  perfection  of  each  day  as  it  goes  by.  It  needs  time 
to  recognise  and  realise  the  warmth  and  colour  which 
a  noble  mind,  a  true  heart,  and  an  ever  heaven-aspiring 
soul  can  throw  into  even  the  commonest  things  of  life. 
I  often  wonder  how  these  walks,  how  these  rooms  with 
their  old  boisserie  would  appear  with  another  inhabi- 
tant; quite  unimpressive  perhaps — but  now  they  are 
simply  illuminated.  Beautiful  pictures  remain  with 
one  from  everything  at  Highcliffe,  but  most  of  all  that 
of  the  noble  figure,  seated  in  her  high  tapestried  chair, 
painting  at  her  little  table  by  the  light  of  the  green 
lamp,  and  behind  her  a  great  vase  filled  with  colossal 
branches  of  green  chestnut,  mingled  with  tall  white 
lilies,  such  as  Gabriel  bore  before  the  Virgin.  As  Lady 
Jane  sings,  she  is  roused  to  call  for  more  songs,  for 
'  something  pathetic,  full  of  passion — love  cannot  be 
passionate  enough.' — ^  What !  another?'  says  Lady 
Jane.  ^  Another,  two  nothers,  three  nothers  :  I  cannot 
have  enough.' 

'  In  the  perfect  Christian,  the  principal  virtues 
which  produce  an  upright  life  and  beauty  of  form  are 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  213 

fervent  faith  and  the  love  of  our  crucified  Redeemer. 
As  faith  and  love  deepen,  so  external  grace  and  beauty 
increase,  until  they  become  able  to  convert  the  hearts 
of  men.  .  .  .  The  soul  that  is  beloved  of  God  becomes 
beautiful  in  proportion  as  it  receives  more  of  the  Divine 
grace/  These  words  are  from  Savonarola's  Sermons, 
and  do  they  not  apply  to  our  Lady  ? 

Lady  Caroline  Charteris  ^  came  to  luncheon  — 
plain  in  features,  but  in  mind  indescribably  beautiful 
and  interesting.  She  brought  with  her  a  most  touching 
letter  she  had  received  from  Dr.  Brown  ^  after  his 
wife's  death.  He  spoke  of  the  wells  of  salvation  which 
men  came  to  when  they  were  truly  thirsty,  otherwise 
most  people  either  passed  them  altogether,  or  stayed  an 
instant,  gazed  into  them  admiringly,  and  still  passed 
on.  With  Lady  CaroHne  came  Mrs.  David  Ricardo  in 
a  beautiful  pink  hat,  like  a  Gainsborough  in  flesh  and 
blood." 

July  I, — A  delightful  morning  in  the  library,  fitful 
sunlight  gleaming  through  the  stained  windows  and 
upon  the  orange  datura  flowers  in  the  conservatory. 
Lady  Waterford  painting  at  her  table.  Lady  Jane  and 
Miss  Lindsay  and  Lady  Mary  Lambart  ^  (a  noble- 
looking  girl  like  a  picture  by  Bronzino)  working  around. 
Lady  Waterford  talked  of  the  odd  mistakes  of  words — 
how  an  old  lady  always  said  ^  facetious  '  for  '  officious  ' 

^  Eighth  daughter  of  the  7th  Earl  of  Wemyss.  She  died,  deeply 
mourned  and  beloved,  in  189 1. 

2  Author  of    Rah  and  his  Friends." 

^  Daughter  of  the  8th  Earl  of  Cavan,  afterwards  Baroness  von 
Essen. 


2  14  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

— that  when  she  came  by  the  railway  the  porters  had 
been  so  very  '  facetious/  &c.  Miss  Mary  Boyle  con- 
doled with  an  old  woman  at  the  Ashridge  almshouses 
on  the  loss  of  her  old  husband.    '  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  it's 


THE  LIBRARY,  HIGHCLlFFE.l 

a  great  loss  ;  but  still,  ma'am,  I'm  quite  happy,  for  I 
know  that  he's  gone  to  Beelzebub's  bosom.' — '  I  think 
you  must  mean  Abraham.' — ^Well,  yes,  ma'am,  since  you 
mention  it,  I  think  that  zvas  the  gentleman's  name.' 
In  the  afternoon  we  had  a  delightful  walk  to 


^  From  "  The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


1874]       LITERARY    WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD        2  I  5 

Hoborne,  across  a  common  on  which  a  very  rare 
kind  of  ophrys  grows.  Lady  Waterford  talked  of  a 
visit  she  had  had  at  Ford  from  Mr.  Wayte,  the  new 
Rector  of  Norham,  who  told  her  that  a  few  nights 
before,  his  curate,  Mr.  Simon,  had  been  obliged  to 
go  to  fetch  some  papers  out  of  the  vestry  at  night. 
When  he  opened  the  church  door,  the  moonlight  was 
streaming  in  at  the  west  window,  and  the  middle  of 
the  nave  was  in  bright  light,  but  the  side  aisles  were 
dark.  He  walked  briskly  down  the  middle  of  the 
church  to  the  vestry,  and,  as  he  went,  was  aware 
that  a  figure  dressed  in  white  was  sitting  motionless 
in  the  corner  of  one  of  the  pews  in  the  aisle.  He 
did  not  stay,  but  went  into  the  vestry  to  get  his 
papers,  and,  as  he  returned,  he  saw  that  the  figure 
was  still  in  the  same  place.  Much  agitated,  he  did 
not  go  up  to  it,  but  hurried  home,  and  waited  for 
daylight,  when  he  returned  at  once  to  the  church. 
The  figure  was  still  there,  and  did  not  move  as  he 
approached.  When  he  uncovered  its  face,  he  saw 
that  it  was  a  dead  body.  The  body  had  been  found 
in  the  Tw^eed  the  day  before,  and  the  finders  had  not 
known  what  to  do  with  it,  so  they  had  wrapped  it  in 
a  sheet,  and  set  it  up  in  the  church.^' 

July  3. — We  drove  to  Ashley  Clinton — a  charm- 
ing place.  Lady  Waterford  talked  of  the  origin  of 
words — of  weeds  as  apphed  to  dress.  Mrs.  Hamilton 
said  how  the  Queen  of  the  Sandwich  Islands  always 
spoke  of  flowers  as  weeds.  ^  What  pretty  weeds  there 
are  in  the  cottage  gardens.^ 

Lady  Waterford  spoke  of  the  picture  of  Miss  Jane 


2l6  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

Warburton  near  her  bedroom  door;  how  she  was 
appointed  maid  of  honour  to  Queen  Caroline  at  a 
time  when  maids  of  honour  were  rather  fast,  and 
how,  at  dinner,  when  the  maids  proposed  toasts,  and 
one  gave  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  another  the 


THE  FOUxNTAIN,  HIGHCLIFFE.l 

Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  or  some  other  old  man,  she  alone 
had  the  courage  to  give  the  smartest  and  handsomest 
man  of  the  day,  the  Duke  of  Argyll.^  She  was  so 
laughed  at  by  her  companions  that  it  made  her  cry, 

1  From  "The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 

2  John,  second  Duke  of  Argyll,  immortalised  by  Pope. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  217 

and  at  the  drawing-room  somebody  said  to  the  Duke 
of  Argyll,  ^That  is  a  young  lady  who  has  been  crying 
for  you/  and  told  him  the  story.  He  was  much 
touched,  but  unfortunately  he  was  married.  After- 
wards, however,  when  his  Duchess  died,  he  married 
Miss  Warburton,  and,  though  she  was  very  ugly,  he 
thought  her  absplute  perfectioli.  In  the  midst  of  the 
most  interesting  conversation  he  would  break  off  to 
'  listen  to  his  Jane ; '  and  he  had  the  most  absolute 
faith  in  her,  till  once  he  discovered  that  she  had  de- 
ceived him  in  something  about  a  marriage  for  one  of 
her  daughters  with  an  Earl  of  Dalkeith,  which  was 
not  quite  straightforward;  and  it  broke  his  heart, 
and  he  died.'^ 

July  5. — I  came  up  to  London  with  Lady  Water- 
ford  on  Friday,  and  as  usual  I  find  what  Carlyle  calls 
^  the  immeasurable,  soul- confusing  uproar  of  a  London 
life '  rather  delightful  than  otherwise.  To-day  I  have 
been  with  Mary  Lefevre  to  Marylebone,  to  hear  Mr. 
Haweis^  preach.  He  is  like  a  Dominican  preacher 
in  Italy,  begins  without  a  text,  acts,  crouches,  springs, 
walks  about  in  the  pulpit — which  is  fortunately  large 
enough,  and  every  now  and  then  spreads  out  vast 
black  wings  like  a  bat,  and  looks  as  if  he  was  about 
to  descend  upon  his  appalled  congregation.  Part  of 
his  sermon  was  very  solemn,  but  in  part  preacher 
and  audience  alike  giggled.  '  He  was  converted  last 
Sunday  week :  he  was  converted  exactly  at  half-past 
four  P.M.,  but  since  then  they  say  that  he  has  been 
seen  at  a  theatre,  at  a  ball,  and  at  a  racecourse,  and 

^  Author  of  "  Music  and  Morals,"  &c. 


2l8  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

that  therefore  his  conversion  is  doubtful.  Now  you 
know  my  opinion  is  that  none  of  these  things  are 
wrong  in  themselves.  The  question  is  not  what  the 
places  are,  but  with  what  purpose  and  in  what  spirit 
people  go  to  them.  Our  Saviour  would  not  have 
thought  it  wrong  to  go  to  any  of  these  places.  John 
the  Baptist  certainly  acted  altogether  on  a  lower  level 
and  went  out  as  an  ascetic  into  the  wilderness.  But 
our  Saviour  was  both  charitable  and  large-hearted. 
When  He  was  asked  to  a  feast,  he  went.  He  never 
sacrificed  Himself  unnecessarily,  and  so  the  ^religious 
people  ^  of  that  day  abused  him  for  eating  with  publicans 
and  sinners.  It  is  just  what  'religious  people,^  the 
Pharisees  of  our  own  day,  say  now.  .  .  .  Oh,  let  us 
leave  these  perpetual  judgments  of  others.' 

I  went  afterwards  to  luncheon  at  Lady  Castle- 
town's; she  was  not  come  in  from  church,  but  I  went 
up  into  the  drawing-room.  A  good-looking  very  smart 
young  lady  was  sitting  there,  with  her  back  to  the 
window,  evidently  waiting  also.  After  a  pause,  I 
made  some  stupid  remark  to  her  about  heat  or  cold, 
&c.  She  looked  at  me,  and  said,  'That  is  a  very 
commonplace  remark.  I'll  make  a  remark.  If  a  woman 
does  not  marry,  she  is  nobody  at  all,  nothing  at  all 
in  the  world  ;  but  if  a  man  ever  marries  at  all,  he  is 
an  absolute  fool'  I  said,  '  I  know  who  you  are ; 
no  one  but  Miss  Rhoda  Broughton  would  have  said 
that.'    And  it  was  she. 

''  Mr.  Browning  came  and  sat  on  the  other  side  of 
her  at  luncheon.  She  said  something  of  novels  with- 
out love :  I  said  something  of  black  dose  as  a  cure 
for  love.    Mr.  Browning  said  that  Aristophanes  spoke 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  2ig 


of 'the  black-dose-Ioving  Egyptians/  Miss  Broughton 
said,  '  How  do  you  know  the  word  means  black 
dose  ?  ' — '  Because  there  is  a  similar  passage  in  Hero- 
dotus which  throws  light  upon  the  subject,  with  details 
on  which  it  would  not  be  delicate  to  dwell.'" 

July  6. — Dined  with  Madame  du  Quaire,  meeting 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wigan  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Preston. 
Mrs.  Wigan  talked  of  children's  odd  sayings :  of  one 
who,  being  told  that  God  could  see  everywhere,  asked 
if  He  could  see  the  top  of  His  own  head ;  of  another, 
at  a  school-feast,  who  being  asked  to  have  another 
bun,  said,  'Oh  no,  want  to  go  home.' — 'Nonsense! 
have  another  bun.' — 'No,  want  to  go  home;'  upon 
which  the  giver  of  the  feast  took  him  up,  and  the 
child  exclaimed,  '  Oh  don't,  don't  bend  me.'  " 

July  8. — A  drawing-party  at  Lambeth.  Madeleine 
Lefevre  and  I  went  afterwards  to  show  our  drawings 
to  Mrs.  Tait,  and  had  luncheon  in  the  large  cool 
pleasant  rooms.  In  the  afternoon  I  went  with  the 
Lefevres  to  the  camp  at  Wimbledon.  It  is  an  immense 
enclosure,  with  streets  of  tents,  lines  of  flags.  In  front 
of  the  officers'  tents  are  masses  of  flowers  in  pots  sunk 
in  a  substratum  of  tan,  as  by  law  the  turf  may  not 
be  broken.  Lady  Ducie's  tent,  whither  we  went,  was 
most  luxurious.  We  went  on  afterwards  to  Lady 
Leven's  garden,  which  was  a  beautiful  sight,  with 
brilliant  groups  of  people.  At  the  end,  children  were 
watching  the  manoeuvres  of  some  cats,  who  sat 
quiet  with  garlands  of  mice  and  birds  upon  their 
heads." 


2  20  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

July  10. — Drew  in  the  Tower  of  London,  and 
dined  at  Lord  Castletown's  to  meet  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Godfrey  Pearse  (she  Mario's  daughter),  Madame  du 
Quaire,  and  the  truly  extraordinary  M.  Vivien 

He  talked  incessantly,  but  expected  what  Lady 


GATEWAY,  LAMBETH  PALACE.  ^ 

Castletown  called  ^  a  gallery,'  and  perfect  silence  and 
attention.  'Je  suis  interessant,  moi !  La  petite  de  C. 
elle  n'a  rien  :  elle  chante,  elle  fait  les  oiseaux,  voila 
tout.  Pour  entendre  les  oiseaux,  vous  ferez  mieux 
d'aller  dans  vos  squares :  vous  les  entendrez,  et  vous 
payerez  rien.    Mais  la  petite  de  C.  elle  est  morale- 


1  From  "  Walks  in  London." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        22  1 


ment  malsaine :  moi  je  ne  le  suis  pas,  et  je  suis — 
interessant/ 

He  was  so  surprised  at  the  number  of  servants  : 
'  And  does  all  that  sleep  in  the  house  ?  '  he  said. 

In  the  evening  he  sang  '  Nellie/  and  his  ^  Drame ' 


THE  BLOODY  GATE,  TOWER  OF  LONDON.! 


— of  a  blind  Spanish  musician  with  a  violin,  watching 
windows  for  money,  a  perfect  passion  of  avarice  and 
expectation." 

July  II. — Luncheon  with  Lady  Morley,  meeting 

^  From  "Walks  in  London." 


222 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1874 


Miss  Flora  Macdonald,  who  has  still  a  reminiscence  of 
the  great  beauty  which  brought  such  a  surprise  to 
the  old  Duchess  of  Gloucester  when  she  asked  Victor 
Emmanuel  what  he  admired  most  in  England,  and 
he  answered  so  promptly,  ^  Miss  Flora  Macdonald/ 
Lady  Katherine  Parker  described  — '  because,  alas  ! 
it  was  discovered  that  we  date  just  a  little  farther 

back  than  the  Leicesters,'  having  to  sit  near  ,  the 

most  airified  man  in  London.  She  was?  congratulated 
afterwards  upon  his  having  condescended  to  speak  to 
her,  but  said  he  wouldn't,  only  his  neighbour  on  the 
other  side  was  even  more  insignificant  than  herself, 
and  to  her  he  did  not  speak  at  all.  He  said,  apropos 
of  a  dinner  at  Dorchester  House,  '  Pray  who  are  these 
Holfords?* — 'Oh,'  said  Lady  Katherine,  'I  believe 
they  are  people  who  have  got  a  little  shake-down 
somewhere  in  Park  Lane.' 

I  was  at  the  '  shake-down  '  in  the  evening — some- 
thing quite  beautiful.  The  staircase  is  that  of  an  old 
Genoese  palace,  and  was  one  blaze  of  colour,  and  the 
broad  landings  behind  the  alabaster  balustrades  were 
filled  with  people,  sitting  or  leaning  over,  as  in  old 
Venetian  pictures.  The  dress  of  the  time  entirely 
lends  itself  to  these  effects.  I  sat  in  one  of  the  arcades 
with  Lady  Sarah  Lindsay  and  her  daughters,  then  with 
Lady  Carnarvon.  We  watched  the  amusing  contrasts 
of  the  people  coming  upstairs — the  shrinking  of  some, 
the  degagee  manner  of  others,  the  dignity  of  a  very  few 
— in  this,  no  one  to  be  compared  with  Princess  Mary. 
The  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  were  close  by  (he 
very  merry,  talking  with  much  action,  like  a  foreigner), 
also  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Prussia.    Lady  Somers 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        22  3 

looked  glorious  in  a  black  dress  thickly  sprinkled  with 
green  beetles'  wings  and  a  head-dress  of  the  same. 

With  Lady  Carnarvon  I  had  a  long  talk,  and  could 
not  help  feeling  how  truly  one  might  apply  to  her 
Edgar  Poe's  lines  : — 

"  Thou  would'st  be  loved,  oh  !  then  thy  heart 

From  its  present  pathway  part  not  : 
Being  everything  that  now  thou  art, 

Be  nothing  that  thou  art  not. 
So,  with  the  world,  thy  winning  ways, 

Thy  grace,  thy  more  than  beauty. 
Shall  be  the  theme  of  endless  praise, 

And  love,  and  simple  duty." 

July  12. — Yesterday  there  was  a  great  party  at 
Hatfield.  I  drove  with  the  Woods  to  King's  Cross 
for  the  special  train  at  4  P.M.,  but  was  separated  from 
them  at  the  station,  and  joined  Lady  Darnley  and 
Raglan  Somerset.  A  tremendous  storm  was  brewing 
over  London,  but  we  left  it  behind  at  first.  Quantities 
of  carriages  from  the  house  were  in  waiting  at  the 
Hatfield  station.  The  street  was  fined  with  wreaths 
and  flowers,  and  a  succession  of  triumphal  arches 
made  the  steep  hill  look  like  a  long  flowery  bower. 
In  the  park,  the  grand  old  limes  were  in  full  blossom 
in  front  of  the  stately  brick  house.  On  the  terrace 
on  the  other  side  the  mass  of  guests  was  assembling. 
I  went  off*  with  Lady  Braybrooke  to  the  labyrinth, 
then  with  Lady  Darnley  and  the  E.  de  Bunsens  over 
the  house.  The  storm  now  broke  with  tremendous 
lightning  and  loud  peals  of  thunder,  and  in  the 
Golden  Gallery  it  was  almost  dark.  Just  as  it  began, 
the  royal  party  drove  up,  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 


2  24  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

Wales,  Prince  and  Princess  of  Prussia,  Prince  Arthur, 
the  Tecks,  the  Duchess  of  Manchester,  and  a  great 
quantity  of  suite — a  very  pretty  procession,  vehemently 
cheered  by  the  people.  When  the  storm  cleared,  we 
went  out  upon  the  terraces  ;  the  royal  party  went  to 
the  labyrinth.  As  it  returned,  I  was  standing  with  the 
Leghs  of  Lyme  at  the  head  of  the  steps,  when  Prince 
Arthur  came  up  to  me,  was  very  cordial,  and  talked 
for  some  time  about  Rome,  &c.  I  asked  him  if  the 
Queen  drew  still.  '  Oh,  yes,'  he  said,  '  she  is  quite 
devoted  to  it :  and  I  am  very  fond  of  it  too,  but  then 
/have  so  little  time.^ 

Owing  to  the  rain,  the  dinner  for  eight  hundred 
had  to  be  moved  into  the  Armoury.  The  royal  guests 
and  a  few  others  dined  in  the  Marble  Hall ;  the 
Princess  of  Prussia  was  forgotten  as  they  were  going 
in,  and  had  to  be  hunted  for.  We  all  dined  at  little 
tables;  I  was  at  one  with  Mrs.  Stuart  Wortley,  Mrs.  W. 
Lowther,  and  Lord  Sydney.  Afterwards  the  terraces 
and  house  were  beautifully  illuminated  with  coloured 
lights,  in  which,  through  what  looked  like  a  sea  of  fire 
and  blood,  the  cascades  of  white  roses  frothed  up. 
Every  one  walked  out.  The  royalties  seemed  to  spring 
up  everywhere ;  one  was  always  running  against  them 
by  mistake.  There  was  a  pretty  procession  as  they 
went  away,  and  immediately  afterwards  I  returned  with 
Miss  Thackeray,  her  sister,  and  the  Master  of  Napier. 

'^An  excursion  of  this  kind  from  London  is  delight- 
ful.   Oest  rentracte  ! 

July  13. — Yesterday  (Sunday)  I  had  luncheon  with 
Lady  Castletown  ;  young  Mr.  Astley  was  there,  and 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        22  5 

Miss  Trollope.  Lady  Castletown  talked  of  Vivier,  of 
the  marvellous  versatility  of  his  genius,  of  his  absolute 
refusal  to  go  any  way  but  his  own;  that  except  for 
love  he  never  sang  a  single  song  under  three  thousand 
francs ;  that  when  he  gave  a  concert  at  Nice  he  asked 
'  cent  francs  chaque/  and  the  rooms  were  crowded  ;  that 


compiegneJ 


at  Compiegne  he  did  some  things,  but  he  only  allowed 
three  persons  to  be  present — the  Emperor  and  two 
others.  He  excluded  the  Empress,  because,  in  his 
Spanish  scene,  she  had  dared,  Spanish-wise,  to  throw 
a  bracelet  into  his  hat,  which  so  offended  him  that 
he  told  the  Emperor  he  should  never  let  her  see  him 


VOL.  IV. 


From  *'Days  near  Paris." 


P 


226 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


again.  The  Emperor  quite  delighted  in  him,  and 
could  not  bear  him  to  go  away.  He  persuaded  Vivier 
to  go  with  him  to  Vichy,  and  there  some  of  the  great 
men  of  the  court  called  to  him  from  a  window,  as  he 
was  walking  in  the  garden,  and  begged  him  to  come 
to  them.  He  was  furious,  and  complained  to  the 
Emperor.  '  Sire,  ce  n'est  pas  comme  cela  qu'il  faut 
appeler  Vivier.'  On  one  occasion  he  stopped  and 
threw  up  his  whole  comedy  in  the  middle  before  a 
large  audience  because  Lord  Houghton  sneezed.  It 
was  therefore  necessary  carefully  to  select  his  audience, 
otherwise  he  might  take  offence  and  never  return. 
He  has  discovered  powers  in  a  French  horn  which  no 
one  had  any  idea  of  before,  and  he  can  sit  close  by 
you  and  play  it  with  a  degree  of  delicacy  which  per- 
fectly transports  you — the  most  subhme  philosophy 
of  music. 

We  went  afterwards  to  Holland  House.  I  sat  in 
the  carriage  at  first  under  the  shadow  of  the  grand  old 
red  pile,  but  Lady  Holland  sent  Mr.  Hayward  out  to 
fetch  me  in,  which  he  did  with  a  bad  grace. ^  Lady 
Holland  is  a  very  little  woman,  simply  dressed,  with  a 
white  cap.  She  has  sparkling  eyes,  which  give  her 
face  a  wonderful  animation  ;  which  is  almost  beauty  in 
itself,  and  which,  in  the  setting  of  that  house  and  its 
historic  memories,  makes  her  quite  a  person  to  re- 
member.   Mrs.  Locke  was  there,  and  Lord  Tankerville, 

^  This  was  my  first  sight  of  the  contentious  and  arbitrary  essayist 
Abraham  Hayward,  whom  I  often  saw  afterwards.  He  was  always 
interesting  to  meet,  if  only  on  account  of  his  perverse  acerbity.  Con- 
stantly invited  by  a  world  which  feared  him,  he  was  always  determined 
to  be  listened  to,  and  generally  said  something  worth  hearing. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME    AND   ABROAD        2  2/ 


whom  I  was  very  glad  to  see  again.  Outside,  on  a 
comfortable  bench,  we  sat  some  time  with  the  old  Due 


HOLLAND  HOUSE. 1 


de  RicheHeu.  Mrs.  Wingfield  and  I  wandered  about 
in  the  gardens,  which  were  glorious ! — such  blazes 
of  flowers  between  the  trees,  such  splashing  fountains, 

1  From    Walks  in  London." 


1 


228 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


such  armies  of  scarlet  lilies  looking  over  the  clipped 
yew  hedges ;  and  the  house  itself  so  rich  in  colour  and 
in  shadow.  Then  there  is  a  glade — a  grass  walk  of 
immense  length,  completely  shut  in  by  trees  and  forest- 
like tangle,  so  that  you  might  think  yourself  in  the  deep 
recesses  of  Sherwood  instead  of  close  to  London. 

*'Everard  Primrose  called  to  us  out  of  a  window, 
and  we  went  up  to  him  in  the  old  library.  He  was  in 
a  melancholy  mood,  and  would  not  come  down  with 
us ;  but  Mrs.  Wingfield  went  back  to  him  alone,  and, 
with  that  wonderful  sympathy  which  is  natural  to 
her,  she  soon  tamed  him,  and  he  came  to  us  and  was 
as  pleasant  as  possible. 

The  picture  of  Marie,  Princess  Lichtenstein,  hung, 
pale  and  sad,  looking  down  on  us  from  a  corner,  and 
seemed  to  say,  '  Hence  I  am  now  banished ;  even  my 
portrait  is  put  away.' 

July  14. — Dined  at  Lady  Carnarvon's  to  meet  Lord 
Stanhope.  Only  the  two  mothers  of  the  house.  Lady 
Chesterfield  and  Lady  Carnarvon — a  charming  good- 
humoured  old  lady,  and  a  Mr.  Townshend  were  there. 
Lord  Carnarvon  talked  much  of  the  interests  of  regular 
work  and  the  unutterable  weariness  of  interruptions. 
Lord  Stanhope  was  very  agreeable  at  dinner,  but  fell 
asleep  afterwards.  The  younger  Lady  Carnarvon,  with 
her  hair  sprinkled  with  diamonds,  looked  unspeakably 
lovely." 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Holmhurstjjuly  19,  1874. — I  know  half  my  friends 
wonder  how  I  can  like  the  change  from  the  intellectual 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD        2  29 


interests  and  luxurious  life  of  London  to  the  society 
of  the  bumble-bees  and  butterflies  in  this  little  hermi- 
tage;  but  I  am  sure  the  absolute  quietude  is  very  good 


for  one,  and  I  rush  into  my  work  at  once,  and  get 
through  no  end  of  it.  I  came  away  from  London, 
however,  rather  pining  to  stay  for  the  party  at  Holland 
House,  because  I  thought  it  was  a  duty  to  Lea  and 


230  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

Miss  Leycester,  and  I  experienced  the  bathos,  which  so 
often  comes  when  one  is  rather  conceited  about  a  Httle 
piece  of  self-sacrifice,  of  finding  they  would  both  much 
rather  I  had  gone  to  the  party,  that  they  might  have 
heard  all  about  it ! 

Miss  Leycester  is  very  cheerful,  and  greatly  enjoys 
her  summer  retreat  here — sitting  out  amid  the  scent  of 
the  lime-flowers :  being  wheeled  about  in  her  chair 
amongst  the  baskets  of  geraniums :  having  tea  upon 
the  terrace,  &c.  Another  sweet  old  lady  cousin.  Miss 
Tatton,  who  cannot  walk  at  all,  is  just  arriving  for  a  fort- 
night, and  the  Hospice  is  quite  full  of  dear  feeble  beings. 

As  to  the  little  troubles  about  which  you  ask  me,  I 
can  only  reply  in  the  words  of  Delatouche  to  George 
Sand,  ^  Patientez  avec  le  temps  et  I'experience,  et  soyez 
tranquille  :  ces  deux  tristes  conseilleurs  viendront  assez 
vite/ 

I  shall  be  very  anxious  to  hear  about  your  German 
travels.  ...  To  me,  if  one  is  not  in  a  fever  about 
going  on,  the  lingering  in  the  wonderful  old  towns  by 
the  way,  so  full  of  a  past  deeply  written  still  on  their 
remains,  is  far  more  interesting  than  that  part  of  the 
tour  which  all  the  world  takes,  and  the  little  glimpses 
of  people  and  life  which  one  gets  in  them  give  one  far 
more  to  think  about  afterwards.  Wiirtzburg  and  Ratis- 
bon  I  forbid  you  to  pass  unseen  :  they  used  to  be  reached^ 
toiled  after  with  such  labour  and  fatigue ;  and  now,  in 
these  railway  days,  they  are  generally — passed^ 

Journal. 

July  29. — I  have  been  in  London  again  for  two 
days.    On   Tuesday  Sir   Howard   Elphinstone,  the 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        23  I 


Lefevres,  and  I  went  to  Holland  House,  where  Lady 
Castletown  and  Mrs.  Wingficld  joined  us.  We  drew 
in  the  Arcade,  and  then  Miss  Coventry  came  out  in  her 
Spanish  hat  and  called  us  in  to  Lady  Holland.  She 
was  in  the  west  room,  sitting  in  the  wide  window,  and, 
Hke  a  queen,  she  sat  on,  moving  for  nobody.  She 


was,  however,  very  kind,  and  pleased  with  our  drawings. 
She  talked  of  the  royal  ball,  and  said  that  the  two  little 
Princes  were  so  delighted  with  Puss  in  Boots  that 
they  pulled  his  tail  incessantly,  till  at  last  Puss  said, 
'  Remember  I  have  got  teeth  and  claws  as  well  as  a 
tail,'  and  then  they  were  frightened  and  left  off. 


^  From  "Walks  in  London." 


232 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


Wednesday  was  Victoria  Liddeli's  wedding-day.-^ 
All  Fulham  turned  out,  and  Walham  Green  was  a 
succession  of  triumphal  arches,  garlands,  and  mottoes. 
I  went  with  Victor  Williamson,  and  they  mistook  us 
for  the  bridegroom  and  best  man.  They  told  us  to 
go  up  and  wait  near  the  altar,  and  the  Wedding  March 
struck  up,  but  stopped  abruptly  as  we  went  into  a  pew.'^ 

July  30. — Yesterday  I  dined  at  Lord  Castletown's, 
and  met,  as  usual,  an  interesting  party..  Lord  Castle- 
town ^  talked  of  his  youth  at  Holland  House,  when 
he  was  brought  up  there  as  the  ward  of  Lord  Holland. 
'  Lord  H.  was  most  indulgent,  and  was  always  finding 
amusements  for  me.  One  day,  two  days  before  the 
end  of  the  Eton  holidays,  he  asked  me  to  go  some- 
where. No,  sir,"  I  said,  I  cannot  do  that,  because 
I  have  got  my  holiday  task  to  finish." — '^And  what 
is  your  task  ?  said  Lord  Holland.  Latin  verses  on 
St.  Paul  preaching  at  Athens,  seventy  lines." — ^^Oh, 
what  a  grand  subject,"  said  Lord  Holland;  leave  it 
for  me.  I  will  do  your  task  for  you,  and  do  you  go 
out  and  amuse  yourself."  And  he  did  it  all  but  four 
lines,  and  then  some  important  business  called  him 
away,  and  he  gave  them  back  to  me,  saying  I  must 
finish  them  as  well  as  I  could.  It  was  a  most  grand 
set  of  verses,  and  when  I  gave  them  up  to  Keats,  he 
would  read  them  aloud  before  the  whole  school.  In  the 
middle  he  said,  Who  wrote  these,  sir  ?  " — I,  sir." — 
You  lie,  sir,"  said  Keats.  At  last  he  came  to  the 
last  four  lines.    ^^You  wrote  these,  sir,"  he  said.  I 

^  Lady  Victoria  Liddell  married  Captain  Edward  Fisher,  now  Rowe. 
-  John  FitzPatrick,  Baron  Castletown  of  Upper  Ossory. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  233 


heard  no  more  of  it,  but  I  never  got  back  my  copy  of 
verses. 

^^^Once  I  escaped  from  Eton,  and  Lord  Holland 
caught  me — found  me  in  the  streets  of  London.  He 
made  me  get  into  his  carriage  at  once,  and  told  the 
man  to  drive  to  the  White  Horse  Cellar,  whence  the 
coach  started  for  Eton.  Unfortunatel}^  for  me,  there 
was  one  starting  at  once,  and  he  made  me  get  in.  I 
remonstrated,  saying  that  I  had  not  got  my  things. 
'^They  shall  be  sent  after  you,"  he  said.  But  I 
shall  be  flogged,  sir." — Serve  you  right,  too;  I  hope 
you  will  be  flogged,"  he  said.  I  looked  very  piteous, 
and  as  I  got  into  the  coach  he  said,  Well,  good-bye, 
John;  I  hope  3^ou'll  be  flogged,"  and  he  shook  hands 
with  me,  and  in  my  hand  I  found  a  five-pound  note. 
He  was  always  doing  those  kind  things. 

'^'At  Holland  House  I  saw  everybody  most  worth 
seeing  in  Europe.  All  that  was  best  flowed  in  to 
Lord  Holland,  and  he  was  equally  hospitable  to  all. 
The  Whigs,  not  only  of  England,  but  of  all  the  world, 
came  to  him.' 

Lady  Castletown  told  a  story  of  a  Russian  Prin- 
cess who  had  a  very  hideous  maid.  One  morning  her 
maid  came  to  her  looking  very  much  agitated — per- 
fectly def elite.  The  Princess  asked  her  what  was  the 
matter,  when  she  said,  '  Oh,  I  have  had  the  most 
extraordinary  night.  As  I  was  going  to  bed,  I  saw 
a  man's  foot  under  the  bed.  I  was  going  to  ring  the 
bell  when  he  stopped  me  by  saying,  ^^Oh,  don't  ring; 
I  have  been  brought  into  this  predicament  by  my 
hopeless  passion  for  you.  I  felt  that  there  was  no 
other  chance  of  seeing  you,  so  I  ran  this  risk."  Seeing 


234 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1874 


that  he  was  serious,  and  never  having  had  a  proposal 
before,  I  could  not  but  talk  to  him ;  and  we  talked 
all  night,  and  now  it  is  all  settled,  and  we  are  to  be 
married/ — ^  Well,'  said  the  Princess,  'that  is  very 
strange ;  and  now  I  am  going  to  court,  so  where  are  my 


HOLLAND  HOUSE  (THE  LILY  GARDEN). 


diamonds  ?  ' — '  Oh,  of  course  where  they  always  are,* 
said  the  maid ;  but,  when  she  looked,  they  were  gone : 
the  lover  had  taken  them.  '  Of  course  that  is  what 
he  came  for,'  said  the  Princess ;  '  do  you  think  he 
would  have  come  for  you  ?  '  And  the  diamonds  were 
never  recovered." 


^  P'rom  "Walks  in  London." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  235 

August  8. — Came  to  Chevening.  The  house  strikes 
one  by  its  overwhehiiing  impression  of  sadness.  The 
sunshine  is  all  blotted  out  since  last  year  by  the 
death  of  its  beloved  mistress  last  winter ;  ^  but  I  am 
glad  I  came,  as  it  gives  pleasure,  and  I  am  glad  I  was 
asked  so  soon,  as  it  shows  their  liking  to  have 
me.  Walking  with  Lady  Mahon  ^  between  the  same 
beds  of  tall  flowers  amongst  which  I  walked  with  Lady 
Stanhope  last  year,  she  spoke  of  her  very  touchingly, 
how,  though  there  might  be  many  pleasures  and 
interests  left  in  life,  there  was  always  the  feeling 
that  there  never  could  be  what  had  been — the  warm 
interest  in  others,  the  cheerful  sunny  nature  which 
radiated  on  all  it  came  in  contact  with.  The  illness 
was*  very  sudden,  and  little  alarm  felt  till  just  the  end. 
Her  last  words  to  her  poor  broken-hearted  husband 
were,  '  Do  not  fret,  love ;  I  shall  soon  be  quite  well 
now/  Lady  Mahon  said  that  Lord  Stanhope's  heroic 
determination  to  bear  up  for  all  their  sakes  enabled 
them  to  follow  his  example/' 

August  10,  Sunday, — This  afternoon  I  drove 
with  Lord  Stanhope  in  the  long  grassy  glades  of 
the  park,  the  highest  and  prettiest  of  which  gave  a 
name  to  the  place — Chevening,  'the  Nook  in  the  Hill.' 
We  drove  afterwards  from  one  fine  young  Wellingtonia 
which  he  had  planted  to  another,  examining  them  all, 
and  came  back  by  the  Spottiswoodes'.  It  is  a  fine  old 
place,  intended  as  an  imitation  of  the  Villa  Doria  at 

^  Emily,  wife  of  the  5th  Earl  Stanhope,  died  Dec.  31,  1873. 
^  Evelyn  Henrietta,  daughter  of  R.  Pennefather,  Esq.,  afterwards  6th 
Countess  Stanhope. 


236 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


Rome,  and  though  in  nowise  like  Villa  Doria,  it  has 
a  look  of  Italy  in  its  groves  of  ilexes  and  its  cypresses. 
Lady  Frederick  Campbell^  lived  here.  Her  first  hus- 
band was  the  Lord  Ferrers  who  was  hanged,  and  some 
evidence  which  she  gave  was  instrumental  in  bringing 
about  his  condemnation.  Lord  Ferrers  cursed  her, 
saying  that  her  death  would  be  even  more  painful 
than  his;  and  so  in  fact  it  was,  for  in  1807  she  was 
burnt  in  one  of  the  towers  of  the  house,  from  spon- 
taneous combustion  it  is  said.  Nothing  was  found  of 
her  but  her  thumb,  she  was  so  completely  consumed, 
and  ever  since  it  is  said  that  the  ghost  of  Lad}^  Fre- 
derick Campbell  wanders  in  the  grounds  at  night,  bran- 
dishing her  thumbless  hand,  and  looking  for  her  lost 
thumb.  The  place  lends  itself  to  this  from  its  wonder- 
ful green  glades  lined  with  cedars  and  guarded  by  huge 
grey  stone  vases. 

Coomb  Bank  w^as  afterwards  bought  by  the  Claytons, 
who  spent  all  they  had  in  the  purchase  and  had  nothing 
left  for  keeping  it  up,  so  eventually  they  sold  it  to  Mr. 
Spottiswoode,  the  King's  Printer,  to  whom  the  mono- 
poly of  printing  Bibles  and  Prayer-books  has  been  the 
source  of  a  large  fortune.  Mr.  Spottiswoode  himself  is 
a  most  remarkable  man,  who,  for  hours  before  his  daily 
walk  to  the  City,  is  occupied  with  the  highest  mathe- 
matical speculations,  and  returns  to  spend  his  evenings 
in  studies  of  the  most  abstract  nature.  It  is  said  that 
the  present  generation  is  more  indebted  to  him  than 
to  any  other  person  for  its  improved  powers  of  anal3^sis. 
He  has  made  no  important  discoveries  yet,  but  he 

^  Daughter  of  Amos  Meredith,  Esq.  She  married,  secondly,  a  son  of 
the  4th  Duke  of  Argyll. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  237 


probably  will  make  them,  if  he  lives  long  enough. 
His  character  seems  to  be  a  wonderful  combination 
of  profound  knowledge  and  power  and  profound 
humility." 

August  II. — A  semi-wet  day,  spent  chiefly  in 
the  library,  which  is  attached  to  the  house  by  a  corridor 
full  of  portraits.  In  the  afternoon,  though  it  poured, 
we  had  a  long  drive  on  the  Chart.  The  Spottiswoodes 
dined,  and  Mrs.  Spottiswoode  sang  very  old  music." 

August  12. — Came  to  Cobham.  It  has  a  beautiful 
approach  across  the  broken  ground  of  a  very  wild  park 
with  grand  old  trees.  In  the  hollow  is  the  old  house, 
which  is  immense,  of  red  brick  with  projecting  oriels 
and  towers.  Lady  Darnley  ^  received  me  in  the  library  ; 
she  has  an  unintentionally  haughty  manner,  but  when 
you  are  accustomed  to  her,  you  find  that  she  is 
charming — 

^  Si  sta  placido  e  cheto, 
Ma  serba  dell'  altiero  nel  mansueto  j'^ 

and  soon  it  seemed  as  if  one  had  known  her  all  one's 
life.  The  children  came  dropping  in — two  grown-up 
daughters,  two  little  girls.  Lord  Clifton,  and  two  fine 
frank  younger  boys — Ivo  and  Arthur.  There  are  many 
guests." 

August  13. — A  most  pleasant  morning  sitting  with 
Lady  Darnley  under  the  fine  old  trees  drawing  the 

1  Lady  Harriet  Pelham,  daughter  of  the  3rd  Earl  of  Chichester,  wife 
of  the  6th  Earl  of  Darnley. 
^  Tasso. 


238  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

house,  and  seeing  the  rooms  and  the  pictures,  which 
are  mostly  dull — chiefly  nymphs  and  satyrs  with  very 
few  clothes  on — two  very  fine  Titians  being  the  re- 
deeming part  of  the  gallery.  The  pictures  are  wisely 
devoted  to  the  public ;  they  are  too  uncomfortable  to 
live  with,  and  the  Chatham  people  adore  them. 


COBHAM  MALL. 

I  find  this  house,  where  no  one  is  too  clever,  but 
every  one  is  pleasant  nevertheless,  a  great  rest  after 
Chevening,  where  I  always  felt  struggling  up  to  an 
intellectual  level  which  I  have  no  right  to  and  which 
I  cannot  attain.  Apropos,  the  last  morning  Lord  Stan- 
hope talked  much  of  the  origin  of  words,  and  said 
'  Beldam  '  came  from  ^  Belle  dame '  used  satirically." 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  239 

August  1 5. — Returned  to  Holmhurst.  Mr.  Thomas, 
the  landscape  gardener,  travelled  with  me.  He  spoke 
of  an  obnoxious  American  coming  into  a  great  hotel  at 
Liverpool  and  boasting  of  how  much  finer  American 
hotels  were — ^  a  hundred  times  the  size/  &c.  The  man 
he  addressed  listened  quietly  and  then  said,  ^  But  you 
have  not  yet  seen  our  great  hotel  at  Southampton,  sir ; 
it  is  a  mile  long,  will  accommodate  5000  people,  and 
all  the  waiters  wait  on  horseback.' — ^  I  guess  that's  a 
lie,  sir,'  said  the  American.  'Yes,  it  is,'  replied  the 
Englishman,  '  but  then  I  thought  you  were  telling  lies.'  " 

Sept.  28. — A  very  pleasant  visit  of  two  days  to 
the  Shaw-Lefevres.  They  are  certainly  one  of  the 
happiest  and  most  united  of  families.  We  made  a 
delightful  excursion  of  sixteen  miles  to  Sutton  Court, 
where  they  lived  formerly.  It  must  be  very  seldom  that, 
after  a  lapse  of  ten  years,  a  father  and  mother  can 
return  to  such  a  place  in  old  age  with  their  family  of 
the  original  seven  unbroken,  only  many  others  added. 
Sutton,  the  beautiful  old  house  of  the  Westons,  inlaid 
with  terra-cotta,  is  just  the  place  for  a  story,  with 
the  closed  wing  where  the  ivy  forces  its  way  through 
the  walls  and  wreaths  round  the  frames  of  the  old 
family  portraits,  which,  rent  and  forlorn,  flap  in  the 
gusts  of  wind  whenever  a  distant  door  opens.  Then 
there  is  the  still-used  Roman  Catholic  chapel,  with  its 
priest  and  its  country  congregation." 

Powder  ham  Castle^  Oct.  4. — A  week  here  has  been 
most  dehghtful.  I  had  not  felt  certain  how  much  I 
might  Hke  it,  how  much  my  dear  friend  of  old  days 


240  THE   STORY    OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

might  be  changed  by  lapse  of  time  and  new  relations. 
I  can  only  say  that,  if  he  is  changed,  it  is  in  being 
more  entirely  and  perfectly  delightful  than  ever,  more 
indescribably  thoughtful  for  others,  more  filled  with 
plans  for  the  good  of  every  one,  and  withal  so  simple, 
so  free  from  cant,  that  all  else  seems  unchristian  and 
mundane  by  comparison.  Lady  Agnes  is  the  one 
person  I  have  seen  who  is  quite  entirely  worthy  of 
him,  and  it  does  seem  as  if  a  reward  of  such  perfectly 
beautiful  lives  was  given  even  in  this  life,  that  they 
should  have  been  thrown  together. 

I  arrived  about  half-past  five.  Powderham  has 
a  low  park,  rising  into  high  ground  as  it  approaches 
the  castle,  which  has  a  gateway  and  courtyard.  Here 
Charlie  was  walking  about  amongst  orange-trees  in 
large  boxes  Hke  those  at  the  Tuileries.  The  bedrooms 
are  dilapidated  and  falling  into  decay:  Lord  Devon 
will  not  restore  them,  nor  will  he  set  any  of  his 
estates  free  by  seUing  the  rest,  but  he  goes  on  planting 
quantities  of  Wellingtonias  in  his  park  and  making 
expensive  fences  round  them.  In  himself  he  is  charm- 
ing, with  a  perfect  and  entirely  courteous  manner. 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Heygarth  have  been  here,  he  still 
lame  with  shot  in  the  leg  from  the  battle  of  the  Alma, 
where  he  was  wounded  again  while  lying  on  the 
ground,  having  been  noticed  because  he  tried  to  save 
Lord  Chewton,  who  was  lying  near  him,  and  whom 
a  Russian  soldier  was  about  to  murder. 

^^With  Charlie  and  Lady  Agnes  I  have  been  com- 
pletely at  home  and  perfectly  happy.  One  day  we 
went  to  the  sands,  and  walked  along  them  to  Dawlish. 
But  yesterday  was  quite  charming;  I  had  much  wished 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        24 1 


to  go  to  Lady  Morley  at  Whiteway,  and  after  luncheon 
we  set  off — Charlie,  Lady  Agnes,  and  L  When  the 
narrow  lanes  grew  too  steep  for  the  pony-carriage, 
we  left  it  under  a  hedge,  and  putting  a  saddle  on  Jack 
the  pony,  rode  and  walked  by  turns  up  the  hill  and 
across  the  wild  heath  of  the  open  moor :  Charlie  rode 
pick-a-back  behind  Lady  Agnes.  In  the  woods  we 
met  Morley,  greatly  surprised  to  see  us  arrive  thus. 
The  others  were  out,  but  Morley  showed  all  the 
curiosities  of  the  house,  which  were  many  in  a  small 
way.  Just  as  we  were  setting  off.  Lady  Morley  and 
Lady  Katherine  returned,  and,  after  many  pro's  and 
con's,  we  stayed  to  a  most  amusing  dinner,  and  only 
set  off  again  at  lO  P.M.  with  Ian  thorns  in  pitch  dark- 
ness. Morley  and  Lady  Katherine  walked  with  us 
the  first  three  miles  over  the  wild  moor  with  their 
lanthorn,  and  then  we  dived  down  into  the  eerie  lanes 
closely  overhung  with  green  and  fringed  with  ferns, 
and  most  lovely  were  the  effects  as  the  lanthorn  re- 
vealed one  gleam  of  glistening  fohage  after  another 
out  of  the  darkness.  When  we  reached  home  at 
II  P.M.,  we  found  the  servants  alarmed  and  a  horse- 
man sent  out  to  search  for  us ;  and  no  wonder. 

I  was  ill  all  night  from  having  eaten  junket  at 
Whiteway.  Charlie  says  this  Devonshire  dainty  is 
so  called  from  the  Neapolitan  joncetta — cream  on 
rushes.  In  Devon  they  pretend  it  is  a  rehc  of  the 
Roman  invasion ! 

^^We  have  just  been  to  church  at  Kenton.  An 
immense  funeral  party  (from  last  week)  walked  in, 
two  and  two,  with  great  importance  and  occupied  three 
pews.    They  sat  through  the  whole  service,  as  if  too 

VOL.  IV.  Q 


242  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

overwhelmed  by  their  late  grief  to  rise,  and  the 
women  held  handkerchiefs  to  their  faces,  and  rocked, 
and  shook  the  crape  bows  upon  their  bonnets,  while 
waiting  for  the  expected  ^funeral  discourse.'  The 
people  here  are  delightfully  primitive.  The  other  day, 
at  a  dinner  Lord  Devon  gave,  a  man  of  the  place 
rose  to  propose  his  health,  and  comprised  all  that 
needed  to  be  said  in — ^  I  don't  know  what  Lord  Devon 
du,  but  all  I  du  know  is  that  if  more  would  du  as 
Lord  Devon  du  du,  there  wouldn't  be  so  many  as 
would  du  as  they  du  du.' 

^^The  wife  of  a  neighbouring  clergyman  was  very 
seriously  ill  of  a  strange  and  mysterious  complaint. 
It  was  observed  that  her  worst  attacks  always  came 
on  after  her  husband  had  administered  the  Sacrament 
to  her.  Mr.  O.,  who  was  attending  her,  studied  her 
case  very  much,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that,  if 
the  peculiar  symptoms  she  exhibited  came  from  un- 
natural causes,  they  could  only  be  produced  by  a 
single  and  very  rare  drug.  Forthwith  he  set  himself 
to  find  out  if  there  was  any  place  in  the  neighbour- 
hood where  that  drug  was  sold,  and  at  last  he  did 
find  it.    He  asked  at  the  place  if  they  had  sold  any 

of  it.     '  Oh,  yes ;  to  the  parson  at  ;  he  bought 

some  yesterday.'  As  Mr.  O.  was  going  home  he  met 
the  clergyman  himself  He  stopped  him  and  said, 
'  I  have  just  found  out  that  yesterday  you  bought 
some  drugs  at  M. :  now  if  Mrs.  X.  is  worse  to-morrow, 
I  shall  know  what  has  caused  it.'  That  afternoon 
the  clergyman  went  down  to  the  shore  to  bathe,  and 
he  never  returned.  He  was  known  to  be  a  splendid 
swimmer,  and  he  was  seen  to  swim  far,  far  out  to  sea. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  243 

'^To-night  Lady  Agnes  talked  of  her  grandmother, 
who,  at  sixteen,  was  sent  down  to  speak  to  the 
housekeeper  at  Audley  End.  The  woman,  who  was 
raving  mad,  shut  the  door  and  said,  ^  Now  you 
must  say  your  prayers  at  once,  for  I  have  a  com- 
mission from  heaven  to  kill  you.' — ^  Oh,  you  cannot 
dare  to  do  that/  said  the  girl  without  hesitation, 
taking  up  a  white  napkin  which  lay  upon  the  table 
and  giving  it  to  her  with  an  air  of  the  utmost  con- 
viction, ^  for  here  is  a  reprieve.'  And  the  woman  gave 
in  at  once." 

Anthony  J  Plymouth^  Oct.  7. — On  Monday  I  went 
to  Exeter  to  my  Aunt  FitzGerald,^  who  was  greatly 
pleased  to  see  me.  Her  house  is  charming,  full  of 
relics,  and,  as  she  says,  certainly  '  shows  that  she 
is  somebody,^  Over  the  dining-room  chimney-piece 
hangs  a  magnificent  Mignet  of  the  Duchess  of  Ports- 
mouth. There  are  interesting  pictures  of  Lord  Edward 
FitzGerald,  and  beautiful  china  given  by  Frederick 
the  Great  to  the  Duchess  of  York,  and  by  her  to 
Pamela.  Most  of  the  drawing-room  furniture  is  from 
Malmaison. 

Yesterday  I  came  here  to  Anthony  (the  Pole- 
Carews).  It  is  a  strange  drive  from  Plymouth, 
through  endless  courts,  dockyards,  &c.,  and  then 
crossing  an  arm  of  the  sea  by  a  ferry,  which  was 
very  rough  when  I  came,  and  worse  at  night,  when 
the  family  crossed  to  a  ball ;  but,  as  Mr.  Carew  says, 

^  My  real  mother's  youngest  sister  Jane  (see  vol.  i.).  She  married 
Edward,  only  son  of  the  famous  Lord  Edward  FitzGerald  and  of 
the  beautiful  Pamela.    She  lived  till  November  1891. 


244 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


it  is  very  well  to  have  the  sea  between  him  and  such 
a  population  as  that  of  Plymouth. 

^^This  house  is  perfectly  charming — the  old  hall 
and  its  pictures,  the  oak  staircase,  the  warm  tapestried 
sitting-room  —  all,  as  it  were,  typical  of  the  broad 
christian  kindness  and  warm-hearted  cordiaHty  of  its 
inmates.  It  is  a  house  in  which  no  ill  is  ever  spoken, 
and  where  scandal  sits  dumb ;  where,  with  the  utmost 
merriment,  there  is  the  most  sincere  religious  feeling, 
and  yet  an  entire  freedom  from  cant  and  what  is  called 
'  religious  talking.'  There  is  here  a  mutual  spirit  of 
forbearance,  and  an  absence  of  all  egotism  and  self- 
seeking,  which  is  more  instructive  than  a  thousand 
sermons ;  and  it  almost  seems  as  if  it  were  arranged 
that  what  might  be  the  asperities  of  any  one  member 
of  the  family  should  be  softened  and  smoothed  out  by 
the  qualities  of  another.  Mrs.  Carew  is  the  picture  of  a 
warm-hearted,  most  loving  English  mother,  who  enters 
into  and  shares  all  the  interests,  all  the  amusements, 
of  her  children ;  and  between  the  father  and  his  sons 
there  is  none  of  the  shadow  which  so  often  exists,  but 
the  truest  confidence  and  friendship."  ^ 

Oct.  1 1. — It  is  only  by  a  long  stay  that  one  learns 
all  that  the  Carews  really  are — the  perfect  charm  of 
this  most  united  and  beautiful  family  life.  Just  now 
their  goodness  has  been  especially  drawn  out  by  the 
parting  of  Captain  Ernest  Rice  and  his  wife  in  this 
house,  he  going  to  India  for  three  years.  The  Carews 
especially  wished  it  to  be  here,  that  they  might  soften 

^  The  family  circle  was  broken  up  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Carew  in 
1888,  a  few  months  after  that  of  his  eldest  daughter. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  245 

it  to  both,  and  wonderfully  have  they  helped  them 
through — cheering,  enlivening,  nerving,  where  it  was 
possible,  but  never  intruding  comfort  when  the  natural 
burst  of  grief  must  come. 

It  has  been  very  pleasant  seeing  the  different 
guests  come  and  go.  The  Dean  of  St.  Paul's  and 
Mrs.  Church  have  been  here.  He  is  an  excellent 
person,  but  very  nervous  and  twitchy.^  She  has 
a  repose  of  goodness  which  sets  you  at  rest  with  her, 
and  imparts  a  confidence  in  her  at  once. 

Sir  John  and  Lady  Duckworth  were  here  for  two 
days.  His  father  was  military  governor  of  Ports- 
mouth. One  day  his  mother  was  crossing  the  green 
at  Mount  Wyse  when  the  sentry  stopped  her.  ^  Do 
you  know  who  you  are  speaking  to  ?  '  she  said.  ^  No, 
I  don't,'  he  replied,  ^  but  I  know  you  are  not  the 
governor's  cow,  and  that  is  the  only  thing  which  has 
any  business  here.' 

''Lord  Eliot ^  was  also  here.  I  found  great  grace 
in  his  sight,  and  was  most  pressingly  invited  to  Port 
Eliot.  I  went  on  Saturday.  He  met  me  at  the 
station,  and  I  was  almost  walked  off  my  feet  for  four 
hours,  being  shown  every  picture  in  the  house,  every 
plant  in  the  garden,  and  every  walk  in  the  woods. 
There  is  a  limit  in  what  ought  to  be  shown,  and  Lord 
Eliot  has  never  found  it  out. 

''Still  Port  Eliot  is  a  beautiful  place.  The  house 
and  the  grand  old  church  of  St.  German's  Priory — 

^  I  learnt  to  value  Dean  Church  very  much  afterwards.  The  story 
of  his  beautiful  and  noble  life  is  told  in  a  wonderfully  interesting 
"  Memoir." 

-  William,  afterwards  4th  Earl  of  St.  Germans,  died  Oct.  7,  1877. 


246 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


chiefly  Norman — stand  close  together,  on  shaven 
green  lawns,  radiant  with  masses  of  flowers  and 
backed  by  luxuriant  woods,  amid  which  walks  open 
here  and  there  upon  glimpses  of  rock  and  terraces 
near  one  of  the  salt  fiords  which  are  so  common  in 
this  country. 

^'  Lord  St.  Germans,^  who  is  paralysed,  is  a  beautiful 
and  venerable  old  figure,  with  white  hair  and  beard, 
wheeling  himself  about  in  a  chair.  Lord  Eliot  returned 
with  me  to  Devonport,  and  introduced  me  to  the  fright- 
ful sights  of  that  most  hideous  place. 

Some  of  the  pictures  at  Port  Eliot  are  beautiful, 
the  most  so  that  of  Lady  Cornwallis — so  simple  and 
stately  in  its  lines.  It  is  engraved,  but  without  the 
figure  of  a  child,  probably  not  born  at  that  time,  but 
introduced  afterwards  in  the  picture. 

On  Friday  I  had  a  charming  drive  with  Mrs. 
Carew  to  '  the  Hut,*  through  the  narrowest  lanes 
imaginable.  An  old  clergyman  near  this,  Mr.  Wood, 
was  driving  there,  who  told  things  in  a  most  slow  and 
solemn  manner.  He  said,  '  Mrs.  Wood  was  dreadfully 
frightened  as  we  were  driving,  and  said  we  should 

be  upset.    I  said,    My  dear,  it  is  imposs  "  ible,''  I 

could  not  say,  for  we  were  over.' 

Last  night  (Sunday)  the  family  sang  hymns  beauti- 
fully in  the  hall.  ^  No  horrid  Gregorians,'  said  Miss 
Julia,  '  for  the  old  monks  only  sang  those  by  way  of 
penance,  so  why  should  we  sing  them  ? '  " 

Stone  Hallj  Plymouth^  Oct.  13. — Another  pleasant 
family  home !     I  came  on  Monday  to  the  George 

^  Edward  Granville,  3rd  Earl  of  St.  Germans,  died  1877. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  247 

Edgcumbes.  I  had  known  Mrs.  Edgcumbe  well  before 
at  Rome,  but  had  never  seen  her  *  dear  old  man/  her 
^bird/  &c.,  as  she  calls  her  kind  old  husband.^  They 
do  not  dislike  having  married  their  three  daughters 
at  all.  It  is  less  ernb arras  in  their  old  age,  and 
they  enjoy  having  a  constantly  open  house  full  of 
kindly  hospitalities  to  their  neighbours.  Young  Alwyn 
Greville  has  been  here  twice  since  I  came,  and  I  like 
him  increasingly.  It  is  a  charming  old  house,  close 
to  the  town,  but  its  tall  trees  and  disordered  garden 
give  it  a  quaint  look,  which  one  would  be  sorry  to 
see  rectified.  There  is  a  view  across  the  still  reaches 
of  the  harbour,  with  masses  of  timber  floating  close 
by  and  great  ships  lying  far  off,  nearer  the  beautiful 
woods  of  Mount  Edgcumbe.  Close  by  are  many  de- 
lightful walks  amongst  the  rocks,  and  varied  views. 
We  went  to  '  the  Winter  Villa,'  a  luxurious  sun-palace 
with  a  great  conservatory,  backed  by  natural  rock. 
The  late  Lord  Mount  Edgcumbe  lived  here  for  many 
years,  quite  helpless  from  rheumatic  gout.  It  was  his 
mother^  who  was  buried  alive  and  lived  for  many  years 
afterwards.  It  was  known  that  she  had  been  put  into 
her  coffin  with  a  very  valuable  ring  upon  her  finger, 
and  the  sexton  went  in  after  the  funeral,  when  the 
coffin  was  put  into  the  vault,  to  get  it  off.  He  opened 
the  coffin,  but  the  ring  was  hard  to  move,  and  he  had 
to  rub  the  dead  finger  up  and  down.  This  brought 
Lady  Mount  Edgcumbe  to  life,  and  she  sat  up.  The 
sexton  fled,  leaving  the  doors  of  the  vault  and  church 

^  George,  second  son  of  the  2nd  Earl  of  Mount  Edgcumbe,  married 
Fanny  Lucy,  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  John  Shelley. 

2  Sophia,  daughter  of  the  2nd  Earl  of  Buckinghamshire. 


248  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

open.  Lady  Mount  Edgcumbe  walked  home  in  her 
shroud,  and  appeared  in  front  of  the  windows.  Those 
within  thought  it  was  a  ghost.  Then  she  walked  in 
at  the  front  door.  When  she  saw  her  husband,  she 
fainted  away  in  his  arms.  This  gave  her  family  time 
to  decide  what  should  be  done,  and  they  settled  to 
persuade  her  it  had  been  a  terrible  delirium.  When 
she  recovered  from  her  faint,  she  was  in  her  own  bed, 
and  she  ever  believed  it  had  been  a  dream. 

''On  Monday  we  went  in  the  Admiral's  steam- 
pinnace  to  Cotehele ;  Mrs.  Wilson,  Mrs.  Freemantle, 
and  Charlie  WilHamson  with  us.  I  sat  outside  the 
little  cabin,  and  it  was  charming — gliding  up  the 
quiet  river  past  the  richly  wooded  banks.  Up  steep 
woods  we  walked  to  Cotehele,  an  unaltered  old  house, 
with  gate-tower,  courtyard,  chapel,  armour-hung  hall, 
and  dark  tapestried  bedrooms.  Within  the  entrance 
are  ever-fresh  stains  like  blood,  which  you  can  mop 
up  with  blotting  paper.  Sir  Richard  Edgcumbe  went 
out,  bidding  the  porter,  on  peril  of  his  life,  to  let  no 
one  in  without  a  password.  To  prove  his  obedience, 
he  came  back  himself  and  demanded  entrance.  The 
porter,  recognising  his  master's  voice,  let  him  in, 
upon  which  Sir  Richard  cleft  open  his  skull  with 
his  battle-axe  as  he  entered.  The  so-called  blood 
forms  a  dark  pool,  and  looks  as  if  it  had  been  spilt 
yesterday.  Some  say  it  is  really  a  fungus  which  only 
grows  where  blood  has  been  shed,  and  that  the 
same  existed  on  the  site  of  the  scaffold  on  Tower  Hill. 

''  In  the  wood  of  Cotehele  is  a  little  chapel  standing 
on  a  rock  above  the  river.  It  was  built  by  one  of 
the  Edgcumbes  in  the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  who,  closely 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK    AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  249 

pursued,  vowed  it  if  he  escaped  in  safety.  In  despera- 
tion he  threw  his  cap  and  coat  into  the  river  from 
hence,  and  concealed  himself  in  a  hollow  tree :  his 
enemies  thought  he  was  drowned.'^ 

Rockivoodj  Oct.  16. — I  came  from  Plymouth  here 
to  the  John  Boyles'.  Mr.  Boyle  is  failing  rapidly,  ten- 
derly cared  for  by  his  son  Edmund  and  his  daughter 
Mrs.  Quin.  The  house  is  delightful  and  most  com- 
fortable. We  have  been  a  charming  drive  by  Babbi- 
combe  and  Watcombe.  At  St.  Mary  Church  we  saw 
the  two  great  churches — Roman  Catholic  and  High 
Church.  In  the  churchyard  of  the  latter  Bishop 
Phillpotts  and  his  wife  are  buried  under  simple  crosses 
of  grey  Cornish  granite.  Watcombe  is  a  curiously 
tumbled  valley,  full  of  grassy  knolls  interrupted  by 
red  rocks.'' 

Abbots  Kerswelly  Oct,  26. — I  have  been  very  glad 
to  see  this  place — my  cousin  Marcus  Hare's  home. 
We  have  been  several  excursions — to  Berry  Pome- 
roy,  an  old  castle  too  much  overgrown  by  woods,  named 
from  the  Cotentin  family  of  Pommeraye  :  to  Sharpham, 
a  pretty  place  on  the  Dart  with  lovely  grounds  :  and 
to  Dartington,  a  fine  old  place  of  the  Champerownes. 
Two  more  days  at  Powderham  have  given  another 
most  happy  sight  of  Charlie  and  Lady  Agnes.  Quite 
a  large  party  were  there — the  Dowager  Lady  Fortescue 
and  her  pleasant  Irish  sister  Miss  Gale ;  Lord  Fortescue 
with  his  three  daughters  and  a  pleasant  and  very  good- 
looking  midshipman  son,  Seymour ;  Sir  Edward,  Lady, 
and  Miss  Hulse,  and  Miss  A.  Grosvenor,  &c. 


THE   STORY   OF  MY   LIFE  [1874 

^^Lord  Fortescue^  talked  much  of  Mr.  Beresford 
Hope,  his  oddities  and  his  wisdom — how  at  Oxford 
he  puzzled  all  the  Dons  and  frightened  them  very 
considerably  by  his  questions  from  the  Fathers  and 
obscure  Churchmen :  how  some  friend  of  his,  seeing 
in  one  of  Mr.  Hope's  books  the  family  motto,  'At 
Spes  non  fracta,'  wrote  beneath,  'So  Hope  is  not 
cracked.' 

'* '  In  these  days  of  Homeopathy  and  Romanism,'  said 
Lord  Fortescue,  '  one  never  knows  where  one  is.  I 
never  knew  what  peace  or  comfort  was  till  I  took  to 
leaving  out  the  prefix  to  the  word  ''vert."  Neither 
party  can  be  offended  by  your  speaking  of  "a  vert 
to  Homeopathy"  or  "a  vert  to  Romanism."' 

"  He  talked  much  of  different  public  men — of  the 
accuracy  of  Disraeli's  name  for  Mr.  Cardwell — an 
inferior  imitation  of  Peel — '  Peel  and  water  : '  of  Lord 
Russell,  the  '  abruptness  and  deadness '  of  most  of 
his  remarks,  and  yet  how  some  of  them  had  passed 
into  a  proverb  ;  for  instance,  his  definition  of  a  proverb, 
'  One  man's  wit  and  every  man's  wisdom : '  of  Peel's 
personal  shyness  and  his  awkward  way  of  walking 
up  the  House,  on  which  occasions  O'Connor  used  to 
say,  '  Oh,  there  goes  Peel  with  his  two  left  legs.'" 

"  Ford  Casthy  Oct,  29. — I  came  here  yesterday  after 
a  weary  journey  from  Devonshire  to  Northumberland. 
Only  Lady  Sarah  Lindsay,  her  two  daughters,  and 
Alick  Yorke  are  here.  This  morning  we  had  most 
interesting  visitors.  Two  women  were  seen  coming 
in  under  the  gateway,  one  in  a  red  cloak,  the  other 

^  Hugh,  3rd  Earl  Fortescue. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        25  I 

carrying  a  bundle.  It  was  Her  Majesty  Queen  Esther 
Faa  and  the  Princess  Elhn  of  the  Gipsies ! 

''When  she  had  had  her  breakfast,  the  Queen  came 
up  into  the  hbrary.  She  has  a  grand  and  beautiful 
old  face,  and  she  was  full  of  natural  refinement  and 
eloquence.  She  said  how  she  would  not  change  places 
with  any  one,  '  not  even  with  the  Queen  upon  the 
throne,'  for  '  God  was  so  good  to  her; '  that  she  '  loved 
to  wander,'  and  that  she  wanted  nothing  since  she 
^  always  drove  her  own  pair,'  meaning  her  legs. 

''She  spoke  very  simply  of  her  accession — that  she 
was  the  last  of  the  Faas ;  that  she  succeeded  her 
uncle  King  William ;  that  before  him  came  her  great- 
uncle,  of  whom  we  '  must  have  read  in  history,  Jocky 
Faa ; '  that  as  for  her  subjects,  she  '  couldna  allude  to 
them,'  for  they  were  such  a  set  that  she  kept  herself 
clear  of  them ;  that  she  had  had  fourteen  children,  but 
they  were  none  of  them  Faas.  She  spoke  of  her 
daughter  as  '  the  Princess  that  I  have  left  downstairs,' 
but  all  she  said  was  quite  simple  and  without  any 
assumption.  She  sang  to  us  a  sort  of  paraphrase  of 
Old  Testament  history.  Lady  Waterford  asked  her  if 
there  was  anything  she  would  like  to  have.  She  said 
she  cared  for  nothing  but  rings — all  her  family  liked 
them ;  that  her  daughter.  Princess  Ellin,  had  wished 
to  have  the  ring  Lady  Waterford  gave  her  when  she 
last  came  to  Ford,  but  that  she  had  told  her  she  '  never 
meant  to  take  off  her  petticoats  till  she  went  to  bed ; ' 
that  next  to  rings,  she  liked  '  a  good  nate  pair  of 
shoes,'  for  she  '  didna  like  to  gang  confused  about 
the  feet.' 

"  When  she  went  away  she  blessed  us.    She  said 


252 


THE    STORY  OF    MY  LIFE 


[1874 


to  Alick,  'You  are  2l  bonnie  lad,  and  one  can  see 
that  you  belong  to  the  Board  of  Health/  She  said 
to  me  that  she  loved  Lady  Waterford,  so  that,  '  if  it 
wouldna  be  too  bould/  she  should  ^  like  to  take  her 
in  her  arms  and  kiss  her  and  cuddle  her  to  her  old 
bosom. 

Oct.  30. — It  has  been  very  pleasant  having  Alick 
Yorke  here.  He  is  most  amusing.  His  impersonations 
are  wonderful,  and  his  singing  very  good.  Owing  to 
his  being  here.  Lady  Waterford  has  talked  much  of 
her  childhood  at  Wimpole,^  the  delights  of  visits  to 
the  dairy,  and  receiving  great  hunches  of  brown  bread 
and  little  cups  of  cream  there,  and  how,  with  her 
'  mind's  nose,'  she  still  smelt  the  smell  of  a  particular 
little  cupboard  near  her  nursery,  &c. 

Yesterday  we  walked  to  Crookham,  as  Lady 
Waterford  wished  to  visit  a  man  dying  there  of  con- 
sumption. Lady  Sarah  Lindsay  went  in  the  donkey- 
chair.  She  talked  of  Stichill,  the  old  Pringle  place 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Tweed.  It  is  now  inha- 
bited by  a  coal-master  named  Baird,  who  has  amassed 
an  immense  fortune,  but  retains  all  the  old  simplicity  of 
his  character.  He  bought  a  quantity  of  books,  from 
the  idea  of  their  being  proper  furniture  for  the  house, 
but  when  there  was  a  discussion  as  to  whether 
they  should  be  bound  in  Russia  or  Morocco,  said, 
*  Na,  but  I  will  just  ha'  them  bound  i'  Glasgow,  my 
ain  native  place.'    In  the  evening  Lady  Waterford 

^  The  Queen  of  the  Gipsies  died  in  July  1883,  at  the  age  of  eighty-six. 
2  Her  mother,  Lady  wStuart  de  Rothesay,  was  daughter  of  the  3rd 
Earl  of  Ilardwicke. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  253 

sang  to  us — her  voice  like  a  silver  clarion  and  most 
touching — ^  Far  away,  far  away/  till  with  the  melting 
words  dying  into  such  indescribable  sweetness,  one's 
whole  soul  seemed  borne  upwards.'^ 

Oct,  31. — Lady  Waterford  said,  'Now  I  must  tell 
you  a  story.  Somers  ^  came  to  Highcliffe  this  year. 
I  like  having  Somers  for  a  cousin,  he  is  always  so  kind 
and  pleasant,  and  tells  me  so  many  things  that  are  inte- 
resting. 1  felt  it  particularly  this  year,  for  he  was  suffer- 
ing so  much  from  a  piece  of  the  railroad  that  had  got 
into  his  eye  and  he  was  in  great  pain,  but  he  was  just  as 
pleasant  as  ever.  Oh,  love  has  sore  eyes,"  he  said,  but 
he  would  talk.  The  next  day  he  insisted  on  going  off 
to  Lymington  to  see  Lord  Warwick, ^  who  was  there,  and 
who  had  been  ill ;  and  it  was  an  immense  drive,  and 
when  he  came  back,  he  did  not  come  down,  and  Pattinson 
said,  Lord  Somers  is  come  back,  but  he  is  suffering 
so  much  pain  from  his  eye  that  he  will  not  be  able 
to  have  any  dinner."  So  I  went  up  to  sit  with  him. 
He  was  sufifering  great  pain,  and  I  wanted  him  not 
to  talk,  but  he  said,  Oh,  no;  I  have  got  a  story  quite 
on  my  mind,  and  I  really  must  tell  it  you."  And  he 
said  that  when  he  got  to  Lymington,  he  found  Lord 
Warwick  ill  in  bed,  and  he  said,  I  am  so  glad  to 
see  you,  for  I  want  to  tell  you  such  an  odd  thing  that 
has  happened  to  me.  Last  night  I  was  in  bed  and 
the  room  was  quite  dark  (this  old-fashioned  room  ol 
the  inn  at  Lymington  which  you  now  see).  Suddenly 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed  there  appeared  a  great  light, 

^  Charles,  3rd  Earl  of  Somers. 
George  Guy  Greville,  4th  Earl  of  Warwick,  died  Dec.  2,  1893. 


2  54  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

and  in  the  midst  of  the  hght  the  figure  of  Death  just 
as  it  is  seen  in  the  Dance  of  Death  and  other  old 
pictures — a  ghastly  skeleton  with  a  scythe  and  a  dart : 
and  Death  balanced  the  dart,  and  it  flew  past  me,  just 
above  my  shoulder,  close  to  my  head,  and  it  seemed 
to  go  into  the  wall ;  and  then  the  light  went  out  and 
the  figure  vanished.  I  was  as  wide  awake  then  as 
I  am  now,  for  I  pinched  myself  hard  to  see,  and  I 
lay  awake  for  a  long  time,  but  at  last  I  fell  asleep. 
When  my  servant  came  to  call  me  in  the  morning,  he 
had  a  very  scared  expression  of  face,  and  he  said, 
^  A  dreadful  thing  has  happened  in  the  night,  and  the 
whole  household  of  the  inn  is  in  the  greatest  confusion 
and  grief,  for  the  landlady's  daughter,  who  slept  in 
the  next  room,  and  the  head  of  whose  bed  is  against 
the  wall  against  which  your  head  now  rests,  has  been 
found  dead  in  her  bed.'  "  ^ 

Nov.  I,  Sunday. — Lady  Waterford  has  talked  much 
of  how  few  people  in  the  world  each  person  has  to 
whom  their  deaths  would  make  a  real  void  ;  that  she 
had  scarcely  any  one — General  Stuart  perhaps,  and 
Lady  Jane;  that  others  would  be  sorry  at  the  time, 
but  that  it  would  to  them  make  no  blank  ;  that  some- 
how it  would  be  pleasant  to  leave  more  of  a  void,  but 
that  even  with  brothers  and  sisters  it  was  seldom  so. 
I  spoke  of  her  own  sister  and  of  the  great  grief  her 
death  had  been.  ^Yes,'  she  said,  ^a  great  grief,  but 
still  it  is  wonderful  how  little  we  had  been  together 
— scarcely  three  years,  putting  all  the  weeks  together, 

^  I  afterwards  heard  the  same  story,  ahiiost  in  the  same  words,  from 
Lord  Warwick  himself. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        25  5 

out  of  the  fourteen  years  we  had  been  married.  Of 
all  my  relations,  Mama  is  certainly  the  greatest  loss 
to  me,  we  had  been  so  much  together  latterly,  and  were 
so  much  to  each  other.' 

Lady  Waterford  talked  much  of  her  mother's  life 
in  Paris  as  ambassadress,  and  of  her  own  birth  there 
at  the  Embassy.     *  I  went  many  years  after  with 
Mama  to  Spa,  and  there  was  a  very  agreeable  old 
gentleman  there,  to  whom  we  talked  at  the  table- 
dhoie.     He  found  out  that  we  knew  Paris  and  the 
people  there,  and  then  he  talked,  not  knowing  who  we 
were,  of  the  different  ambassadresses.    ^^Celle  que  j'ai 
prefere  de  toutes  les  ambassadrices,"  he  said,  c'etait 
Lady  Granville."    He  saw  somehow  that  he  had  not 
said  quite  the  right  thing,  and  next  day  he  wanted  to 
make  the  amende^  and  he  talked  of  the  Embassy  again 
before  all  the  people,  of  this  room  and  that  room,  and 
then  he  said,    Est  ce  que  c'etait  dans  cette  chambre, 
Miladi,  que  vous  etes  accouchee  de  Miladi  Waterford  ! 
He  was  a  M.  de  Langy,  and  was  a  very  interesting 
person.     His  family  belonged  to  the  petite  noblesse^ 
and  at  the  time  of  the  flight  to  Varennes,  after  the 
royal  family  was  captured,  theirs  was  one  of  the 
houses  to  which  they  were  brought  to  rest  and  refresh 
on  the  way, — for  it  was  the  custom  then,  when  there 
were  so  few  inns.     M.  de  Langy's  mother  was  a 
staunch  royalist,  and  when  she  knew  that  the  King 
and  Queen  were  coming,  she  prepared  a  beautiful  little 
supper,  everything  as  nice  as  she  could,  and  waited 
upon  them  herself    When  they  were  going  away,  the 
Queen,  who  had  found  it  all  most  comfortable,  said, 
Ou  est  done  la  maitresse  de  la  maison  ?  j'ai  ete  si  bien 


256  THE   STORY   OF  MY   LIFE  [1874 

ici,  je  voudrais  la  remercier  avant  de  partir."  Madame 
de  Langy,  who  was  waiting,  said  simply,  '^J'etais  la 
maitresse  de  la  maison  avant  que  votre  majeste  y  est 
entree.'' ' 

''We  went  to  church  at  Etal  in  the  afternoon.  Both 
there  and  at  Ford,  it  being  All  Saints'  Day,  the  ser- 
mons were  wholly  in  exaltation  of  the  saints,  church 
services,  and  salvation  by  works.  Lady  Waterford 
was  pained  by  it :  coming  back  she  spoke  of  a  simple 
rule  of  doctrine  : — 

'  Just  before  God  by  faith, 
Just  before  men  by  works  : 
Just  by  the  works  of  faith, 
Just  by  the  faith  which  works.' 

In  the  evening  she  talked  much  of  her  first  visit  to 
Italy,  her  only  visit  to  Rome.  '  Char,  was  just  married 
then,  and  I  was  just  come  out :  we  went  pour  un 
passe-temps.  We  travelled  in  our  own  carriage,  and 
the  floods  had  carried  away  the  bridges,  and  it  was 
very  difficult  to  get  on.  It  was  the  year  of  the  cholera, 
and  we  had  to  pass  quarantine.  My  father  knew  a 
great  many  of  the  people  in  authority,  and  we  hoped 
to  get  leave  to  pass  it  in  one  of  the  larger  towns. 
Mantua  was  decided  upon,  but  was  eventually  given 
up  because  of  the  unhealthiness,  and  we  had  to  pass 
ten  days  at  Rovigo.  We  arrived  at  last  at  Bologna. 
The  people  were  greatly  astonished  at  the  inn  when 
we  asked  if  the  Cardinal  Legate  was  at  home :  it  was 
as  if  we  had  asked  for  the  Pope  :  and  they  were  more 
astonished  still  the  next  day  when  he  came  to  call 
upon  us.    We  went  to  a  party  at  his  palace.    He  was 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  257 


Cardinal  Macchi.  I  shall  never  forget  that  party  or  the 
very  odd  people  we  met — I  see  them  now.  The  Car- 
dinal was  in  despair  because  the  theatres  were  closed — 


THE  SECRET  STAIR,  FORD.l 

^^Je  vous  aurais  prete  ma  loge,  et  je  vous  aurais 
donne  des  glaces  !  "  The  next  day  Rossini  came  to  see 
us — Je  suis  un  volcan  eteint/'  he  said.  Afterwards 

^  From     The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 
VOL,  IV.  R 


258  THE    STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1874 

we  went  to  Rome  and  stayed  four  months  there.  I  liked 
the  society  part  best — the  balls  at  the  Borgheses'  and 
those  at  the  Austrian  Embassy  :  they  were  great  fun/ 
^^On  Saturday  we  went  to  Norham — the  Lindsays 
and  I.  Even  coming  from  Devonshire,  the  interest  of 
this  country  strikes  one  excessively.  It  is  bare,  it  is 
even  ugly,  but  it  is  strangely  interesting.  There  is 
such  breadth  and  space  in  the  long  lines  and  sweeping 
distances,  amidst  which  an  occasional  peel-tower  stands 
like  a  milestone  of  history,  and  there  is  such  a  char- 
acter in  the  strange,  jagged,  wind-tossed,  storm- 
stricken  trees.  But  it  became  really  beautiful  when 
we  descended  into  the  lovely  valley  of  the  Tweed  with 
all  its  radiant  autumnal  tints,  and  sat  under  the  grand 
mass  of  ruin,  with  great  flights  of  birds  ever  circling 
round  it  and  crying  in  the  still  air." 

Nov.  4. — Yesterday  we  went  quite  a  round  of  visits, 
seeing  different  phases  of  Border  family  life.  We 
lunched  at  the  Hirsel  (Lord  Home's) — a  great  Scotchy- 
looking  house  in  a  rather  featureless  park.  There 
were  two  tables  and  an  immense  party  at  luncheon — 
Mr.  and  Lady  Gertrude  Rolle,  Lord  Romne}^,  and 
others.  I  did  not  think  it  an  interesting  place,  though 
it  contains  a  fine  portrait  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  by 
Raeburn ;  but  Lady  Waterford  delighted  in  the  happy 
family  life,  and  says  whenever  she  sees  Lord  Home 
she  is  reminded  of  the  Frenchman  who  said,  ^  Oh, 
mon  Dieu  !  pourquoi  est  ce  qu'il  n'est  pas  mon  pere  ? ' 

We  went  next  to  Sir  John  Marjoribanks  of  Lees. 
He  was  just  come  in  from  hunting,  and  his  wife  was 
fishing  in  the  Tweed.    We  went  to  her  there  :  she  was 


1874]       LITERARY    WORK    AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD  259 


Standing  up  at  the  end  of  a  boat  which  a  man  was  rowing, 
and  the  whole  picture  was  reflected  in  a  river  so  smooth 
that  it  looked  as  if  they  were  floating  on  a  mirror. 

^^Then  we  went  to  the  Baillie  Hamiltons  at  Lenels, 
another  and  prettier  place  on  tlie  Tweed  near  Cold- 


NORHAM-ON-TWEED. 


stream  Bridge.  The  house  contained  much  that  was 
interesting,  especially  two  enormous  Chelsea  vases 
representing  ^  Air '  and  '  Water.'  Mrs.  Baillie  Hamilton 
was  a  daughter  of  Lord  Polwarth — very  pleasing,  and 
her  sister  came  in  with  the  most  perfect  manners  of 
good-breeding,  &c.    Then  we  went  to  the  Askews. 

1  From  "The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


26o 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


''Lady  Waterford  stopped  to  take  our  luncheon — 
prepared  but  not  eaten — to  a  poor  man  in  a  consump- 
tion. She  beguiled  the  way  by  describing  her  visit  to 
Windsor,  and  the  Queen  showing  her  the  Mausoleum. 

''She  talked  also  of  the  passion  for  jewels  :  that  she 
could  understand  it  in  the  case  of  such  persons  as 
Madame  Mere,  who,  when  remonstrated  with  on  buy- 
ing so  many  diamonds,  said,  '  J'accumule,  j'accumule,' 
for  it  had  been  very  useful  to  her.  Apropos  of  not 
despising  dress,  she  gave  me  the  quotation  from  Pope's 
Homer's  Odyssey  ^ — 

'  A  dignity  of  dress  adorns  the  great, 
And  kings  draw  lustre  from  the  robe  of  state.' 

"Last  Monday,  having  a  great  deal  of  natural  talent 
for  singing,  reciting,  &c.,  in  the  castle,  Lady  Waterford 
would  not  keep  it  to  herself,  and  asked  all  the  village 
people  to  the  school,  and  took  her  guests  there  to  sing, 
&c.,  to  them.  At  the  end,  just  before  '  God  save  the 
Queen,'  she  was  surprised  by  Miss  Lindsay's  ode : — 

'  All  hail  to  thee,  sweet  lady,  all  hail  to  thee  this  night, 
Of  all  things  bright  and  beautiful,  most  beautiful,  most  bright ; 
Thou  art  a  welcome  guest  alike  in  cottage  and  in  hall, 
With  a  kindly  word  and  look  and  smile  for  each  one  and  for  all. 
May  every  blessing  life  can  give  be  thine  from  day  to  day. 
May  health,  and  peace,  and  happiness  for  ever  strew  thy  way  ; 
May  the  light  thou  shedd'st  on  others  be  reflected  on  thy  brow, 
May  a  grateful  people's  love  and  pride  like  a  stream  around 
thee  flow. 

And  all  our  prayers  unite  in  one  upon  this  festive  e'en, 
That  long  thou  may'st  be  spared  to  Ford,  to  reign  its  Border 
queen.' " 

1  Bk.  vi.  73,  74. 


l874]       LITERARY   WORK    AT    HOME    AND   ABROAD        26 1 


Nov.  7. — Lord  and  Lady  Warwick  have  been  here 
for  some  days.  She  is  so  simple  and  genial,  that  the 
Italian  word  siinpatica  is  the  only  one  to  describe  her.^ 
'^Yesterday,  Lady  Waterford,  Miss  Lindsay,  and  I 
had  a  delightful  long  walk  across  the  moor  and  through 
charming  relics  of  forest.  It  was  a  succession  of 
pictures — long  extents  of  moss  backed  by  ferny  hills, 
downy  uplands  breaking  into  red  rocks,  lighted  here 
and  there  by  the  white  stem  of  an  old  birch-tree,  and 
overlooking  the  softest  expanses  of  faint  blue  distance. 
We  found  several  curious  fungi.  Lady  Waterford  said 
that  at  Balmoral  the  Duchess  of  Edinburgh  shocked 
the  royal  household  by  eating  almost  all  she  found. 
They  thought  she  would  be  poisoned  ;  but  in  Russia 
they  are  accustomed  to  eat  fungi,  and  they  make  little 
patties  of  them  which  they  eat  in  Lent  when  meat  is 
forbidden — ^  and  they  taste  so  like  meat  that  there  is 
almost  the  pleasure  of  doing  something  which  is  not 
quite  right.' 

^^The  objects  of  the  walk  were  two.  One  was  the 
fall  of  the  Rowting  Lynn  in  a  chaos  of  red  and  grey 
rocks  overhung  by  old  birch-trees,  a  spot  which  seems 
photographed  in  Coleridge's  lines — 

'  Beneath  yon  birch  with  silver  bark 
And  boughs  so  pendulous  and  fair, 
The  brook  falls  scattered  down  the  rock, 
And  all  is  mossy  there.' 

The  other  was  the  sacrificial  stone  covered  with  the 
mysterious  rings  which  have  given  rise  to  bound- 

1  Anne,  wife  of  the  4th  Earl  of  Warwick,  daughter  of  Francis,  8th 
Earl  of  Wemyss  and  March. 


262 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


less  discussion  among  Northumbrian  archaeologists. 
When  we  reached  home,  we  found  the  Bloomfields 
arrived.^  In  the  evening  Lady  Bloomfield  told  a  curious 
story. 

*  I  was  very  intimate  at  Vienna  with  the  Princess 
Reuss,  whose  first  husband  was  Prince  of  Anhalt. 
She  was  a  niece  of  Queen  Teresa  of  Bavaria.  She  told 
me  that  her  aunt  was  at  Aschaffenberg  with  the  inten- 
tion of  going  next  day  to  Munich.  In  the  evening 
the  lady-in-waiting  came  in  and  asked  the  Queen  if 
she  was  intending  to  give  an  audience.  The  Queen 
said,  '^Certainly  not/'  and  that  she  could  not  see  any 
one.*'  The  lady  then  said  that  there  was  a  lady  sitting 
in  the  ante-chamber  who  would  not  go  away.  Queen 
Teresa  then  desired  her  brother  to  go  out  and  find 
out  who  it  was.  He  came  back  much  agitated,  and 
said  it  was  sehr  unhehnlich  (very  uncanny),  for  it  was 
the  Black  Lady,  and  that  when  he  came  up  to  her 
she  disappeared ;  for  the  Bavarian  royal  family  have  a 
Black  Lady  who  appears  to  them  before  a  death,  just 
as  the  White  Lady  appears  to  the  Prussian  royal 
family.  The  next  day  the  Queen  left  Aschaffenberg, 
but  being  a  very  kind-hearted  woman,  she  sent  back 
her  secretary  to  fetch  some  petitions  which  had  been 
presented,  but  which  she  had  not  attended  to,  and 
when  the  secretary  came  into  her  room,  he  found  the 
Black  Lady  standing  by  the  table  where  the  papers 
were,  but  she  vanished  on  his  approach.  That  night, 
when  the  old  castellan  of  Aschaffenberg  and  his  wife 
were  in  bed,  the  great  bell  of  the  castle  began  to  toll, 

1  My  mother's  first  cousin,  Georgiana  Liddell,  had  married  Lord 
Bloomfield,  formerly  ambassador  at  Berlin  and  Vienna. 


1874]       LITERARY    WORK    AT    liOMJ':    AND    ABROAD  263 

and  they  remembered  that  it  could  toll  by  no  human 
agency,  as  they  had  the  key  of  the  bell-tower. 

^'^At  that  moment  Queen  Teresa  died  at  Munich. 
She  arrived  at  three  :  at  five  she  was  seized  with 
cholera:  at  eleven  she  was  dead.'" 


THE  king's  room,  FORD.l 


Nov.  8.  —The  two  Miss  Lindsays  and  I  have  been 
for  a  most  wild  excursion  into  the  Cheviot  valleys  to 
the  Heathpool  Lynn — a  ravine  full  of  ancient  alders 
and  birch,  and  a  mountain  torrent  tossing  through  grey 
rocks.  The  carriage  met  us  at  a  farmhouse — a  most 
desolate  place,  cut  off  by  snow  all  through  the  winter 
months,  and  almost  always  cold  and  bleak." 

^  From  "  The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


264 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1874 


Nov.  9. — Lady  Waterford,  Miss  Lindsay,  and  I 
walked  to  distant  plantations  to  see  some  strange 
grass,  which,  from  being  surrounded  by  water  at 
times,  had  been  matted  together  so  that  it  formed 
a  thick  trunk,  and  branched  out  at  the  top  like  a  palm- 
tree,  with  the  oddest  effect.  Lady  Waterford  talked 
of  an  old  woman  she  knew,  whose  husband  was  very 
ill,  dying  in  fact.  One  day  when  she  went  to  see 
him,  she  found  his  wife  busy  baking  cakes,  and  she 
— the  old  woman — said  that  as  he  was  dying  she 
was  getting  them  ready  for  his  funeral.  Going  again 
some  days  later.  Lady  Waterford  found  the  man  still 
alive,  and  she  could  not  resist  saying  to  the  woman 
that  she  thought  her  cakes  must  be  getting  rather 
stale.  ^  Yes,  that  they  are,^  said  the  wife  ;  '  some  folks 
are  so  inconsiderate.' 

When  we  returned  to  the  castle,  we  found  that 
old  Mr.  Fyler,  the  Vicar  of  Cornhill,  had  arrived, 
and  he  was  very  amusing  all  evening.  He  talked 
much  of  Sir  Horace  St.  Paul  (a  neighbour  here),  who 
had  become  a  teetotaler,  and  had  thrown  away  all 
the  wine  in  his  cellar.  His  mother  was  a  daughter 
of  Lord  Ward,  who  had  challenged  and  run  through 
with  his  sword  a  brother  officer,  who,  when  he  was 
engaged  to  his  wife,  had  snatched  away  a  brooch  he 
had  given  her  and  exhibited  it  at  mess  as  her  present. 
It  was  the  Lord  Ward  who  was  brother  of  Lady  St. 
Paul,  who  was  made  the  prominent  figure  in  the 
picture  by  Copley  of  the  death  of  the  Earl  of  Chatham. 
It  is  a  grand  portrait  in  a  fine  picture,  and  Copley 
gave  the  life-size  sketch  which  he  made  for  it  to  the 
Ward  family. 


1 874 1       LITERARY    WORK   AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD  265 

^^When  Sir  Horace  St.  Paul  was  at  college,  be 
found  a  man  lying  drunk  in  the  quadrangle  and  tried 
to  make  him  get  up.  ^You're  drunk/  he  said;  'you 
don't  even  know  who  I  am.' — 'Yes,  I  know  very 
well  who  you  are/  said  the  man  ;  '  youVe  the  fellow 
that  wrote  an  epistle  to  Timothy  and  never  got  an 
answer.'  I  have  heard  this  quoted  as  one  of  the 
naturally  clever  retorts  of  drunken  men. 

Lady  Waterford  told  Lord  Grey's  story  of  the 
death — in  a  court  in  Edinburgh — of  a  naval  captain 
who  bad  been  noted  for  his  cruelties  at  sea,  but 
especially  in  the  slave  trade.  Mental  terror  made  his 
death-bed  most  appalling.  According  to  Scottish 
custom,  the  family  opened  the  door  for  the  spirit  to 
pass  more  easily,  when,  to  their  horror,  the  bloody 
head  of  a  black  man  suddenly  rolled  into  the  room. 

''  The  dying  man  gave  the  most  fearful  scream, 
and  his  relations  rushed  to  his  bedside.  When  they 
looked  round,  the  head  was  gone,  but  there  was  fresh 
blood  upon  the  floor.  To  them  it  seemed  inexplicable, 
but  the  fact  was  that  Professor  Owen  had  been 
attending  an  anatomical  seance  at  which  the  body 
of  a  black  man  had  been  dissected,  and  there  was 
something  so  curious  in  the  way  in  which  the  head 
had  been  attached  to  the  body,  that  he  had  obtained 
leave  to  carry  it  home  in  a  cloth,  that  he  might  exa- 
mine it  more  carefully.  It  was  a  very  slippery,  wet 
day,  and  as  he  was  passing  the  open  door  of  the 
dying  man,  the  Professor  had  stumbled,  and  the  head, 
slipping  out  of  the  cloth,  had  rolled  into  the  house  ; 
then,  in  the  moment  when  they  were  all  occupied 
with  the  dying  man,  he  had  pursued  it  and  whipped 


266 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


it  up  into  the  cloth  again,  and  hoped  it  had  not 
been  observed."  ^ 

Nov.  10. — Last  night  Mr.  Fyler  told  his  famous 
story  of  ^  the  nun.'    It  is  briefly  this  : — 

'^A  son  of  Sir  J.  Stuart  of  AUanbank,  on  the 
Blackadder,  where  Lady  Boswell  lives  now,  was  in 
Rome,  where  he  fell  in  love  with  a  novice  in  one  of 
the  convents.  When  his  father  heard  of  it,  he  was 
furious,  and  summoned  him  home.  Young  Stuart  told 
the  nun  he  must  leave  Rome,  and  she  implored  him 
to  marry  her  first ;  but  he  would  do  nothing  of  the 
kind,  and,  as  he  left,  she  flung  herself  under  his 
carriage;  the  wheels  went  over  her,  and  she  was 
killed.  The  first  thing  the  faithless  lover  saw  on 
his  return  to  Scotland  was  the  nun,  who  met  him 
in  the  bridal  attire  she  was  to  have  worn,  and  she 
has  often  appeared  since,  and  has  become  known  in 
the  neighbourhood  as  '  Pearlin  Jean.'  On  one  occasion 
seven  ministers  were  called  in  to  lay  her,  but  with 
no  effect. 

Mr.  Fyler  says  that  when  people  on  the  Border 
are  not  quite  right  in  their  heads,  they  are  said  to 
^want  twopence  in  the  shilling.'  A  poor  cooper  at 
Cornhill  was  one  of  these,  and  one  day  he  disappeared. 
The  greatest  search  was  made  for  the  missing  man, 
for  he  was  a  Johnson,  and  almost  all  the  village  at 
Cornhill  are  Johnsons — fishermen.  So  every  one 
went  out  to  look,  and  though  nothing  was  found, 
they  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  been  drowned 
in  the  Tweed. 

^  I  have  heard  Professor  Owen  tell  this  story  himself. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK    AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  26/ 


^'That  evening  Mr.  Fyler  observed  that  his  church 
windows  had  not  been  opened  as  he  desired,  and 
going  up  to  them  and  looking  in,  he  saw  a  white 
figure  wrapped  in  a  sheet  walking  up  and  down  the 
aisle  and  flapping  its  arms.  He  went  back  and  said, 
'  I've  found  the  lost  man.  He  is  in  the  church,  and 
two  of  the  strongest  men  in  the  place  must  go  with 
me  and  get  him  out.'  But  if  any  one  else  had  looked 
into  the  church,  they  would  have  thought  it  was  a 
ghost.  As  it  was,  one  of  the  men  who  came  to  get 
him  out  fainted  dead  away." 

^'  Wviton  Castky  Nov.  14. — Dear  Lady  Ruthven  is 
stone  deaf,  almost  blind,  and  her  voice  like  waggon- 
wheels,  but — in  her  eighty-sixth  year — she  is  as  kind 
and  good  and  as  truly  witty  as  ever. 

On  Friday  we  went  to  Gosford — five  in  the  carriage. 
It  is  a  dull  flat  park,  redeemed  by  being  so  near 
the  sea,  and  contains  two  great  houses  close  to  each 
other,  of  which  one — the  modern  one — has  never  been 
inhabited,  as  sea-sand  was  mixed  with  its  mortar.  We 
found  old  Lady  Wemyss  ^  sitting  behind  a  screen, 
much  hke  a  lady-abbess  in  appearance.  I  was  most 
warmly  received  by  two  child-friends — little  Lady 
Eva  Greville  and  her  brother  Sidney — a  charming 
boy  with  dark  eyes  and  light  flowing  hair.  Then 
Lady  Warwick  came  in  with  Lady  Jane  Dundas,  and, 
with  one  hand-candle,  showed  us  the  pictures,  just 
as  Lady  Elcho  did  many  years  ago. 

''Yesterday  we  went  to  Ormistoun,  an  attractive 
place,  to  see  the  Dempsters,  the  uncle  and  aunt  who 

^  Louisa,  fourth  daughter  of  2nd  Earl  of  Lucan. 


268 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


brought  up  the  authoress  of  ^Vera^ — charming  old 
people.  He  talked  much  of  former  times  in  Scotland, 
and  said  that  much  the  most  agreeable  women  in  the 
country  were  considered  to  be  Lady  Ruthven  and  Mrs. 
Stewart  Mackenzie.  He  described  the  attachment  of 
one  of  Mrs.  Stewart  Mackenzie's  sisters — a  certain 
very  untidy  Frances  Mackenzie — to  Thorwaldsen,  but 
they  were  not  allowed  to  marry.  The  last  word  Thor- 
waldsen  spoke  was  '  Francesca.' 

In  the  garden  of  Ormistoun  is  a  yew  six  hundred 
years  old,  but  with  every  appearance  of  being  still 
quite  in  its  prime,  growing  hard,  and  likely  to  do  so 
for  another  six  hundred  years.  John  Knox  is  said 
to  have  preached  under  it. 

I  sat  by  Lady  Ruthven  at  dinner.  She  talked  of 
the  quaintnesses  of  her  village  people.  The  school- 
master was  very  particular  about  pronunciation. 
When  his  wife  died,  some  one  came  in  and  said,  ^  What 
a  very  lamentable,'  &c. — ^  Oh,  do  say  lamentable,'  in- 
terrupted the  schoolmaster.  When  the  minister  was 
marrying  a  couple  he  said,  ^Art  thou  willing  to  take 
this  woman,'  &c.  ? — ^  Yes,  I  am  zvillingy  replied  the 
bridegroom,  ^  but  I  had  rather  it  had  been  her  sister.' 

To-day  Lady  Ruthven  walked  with  me  to  the 
kirk.  She  had  neither  her  ^  speaking  tubes  '  nor  her 
slate,  so  I  could  not  answer  her,  but  she  told  me  the 
whole  story  of  Lady  Belhaven's  death,  how  it  was  ^  all 
arranged  as  was  best  for  her,  just  a  gentle  passing 
away,  almost  unconscious,  but  perfectly  happy ; '  yet 
how,  though  one  glibly  said^  'God's  will  be  done,'  it 
was  so  hard  to  feel  it.  In  returning,  she  talked  of 
the  trees,  how  the  forester  wished  her  to  cut  one 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  269 


down  where  there  were  two  close  together,  but  how 
she  was  '  unwilHng  to  separate  friends  who  had  Hved 
together  so  long.' 

One  day  Lady  Ruthven  had  a  letter  asking  for 
the  character  of  her  footman,  John  Smith,  who  was 
leaving  her — if  he  was  '  clever,  honest,  sober,  a 
Christian,  a  recipient  of  the  Holy  Communion,'  &c. 
She  answered,  '  If  John  Smith  could  answer  to  half 
your  demands,  I  should  have  married  him  long  ago.' " 

Raby  Castle^  Nov.  20.  —  A  week  here  with  a 
large  party,  which  I  began  to  think  delightful  as 
soon  as  I  could  cure  myself  of  the  uncomfortable 
sensation  of  being  so  much  behind  my  kind,  all  the 
other  people  knowing  each  other  better,  and  being 
more  in  possession  of  their  tongues  and  faculties  than 
myself.  ^  Be  insignificant,  and  you  will  make  no 
enemies,'  is,  however,  a  very  good  piece  of  advice  I 
once  received.  Interesting  members  of  the  circle 
have  been  the  Fitzwilliams  from  Wentworth,  and  the 
Quaker  family  of  Pease,  of  whom  the  mother  is  one 
of  the  sweetest,  most  charming  people  I  ever  saw,  hke 
a  lovely  picture  by  Gainsborough,  and  with  the  ex- 
pression of  one  of  Perugino's  angels.  But  the  great 
feature  of  the  visit  has  been  the  Butes,  and  I  have 
been  absorbed  by  them.  .1  never  expected  to  make 
much  acquaintance,  but  from  the  first  Lord  Bute  ^ 
annexed  himself  to  me,  perhaps  because  he  thought 
I  was  shy,  and  because  of  other  people  he  felt  very 
shy  himself.  He  has  great  sweetness  and  gentleness 
of  manner,  and  a  good-looking,  refined  face. 

^  John  Patrick,  3rd  Marquis  of  Bute, 


270 


THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE 


[1874 


Lady  Bute  ^  says  the  happiest  time  in  her  life  was 
the  winter  they  spent  in  Majorca,  because  then  she 
got  away,  not  only  from  all  the  fine  people,  but  from 
all  the  people  who  wanted  to  know  what  they  thought 
must  be  the  fine  people;  but  that  it  was  such  a  bore 
even  there  bearing  a  name  for  which  the  natives  would 
raise  their  prices.  Next  winter  they  mean  to  spend 
at  Nazareth,  where  they  will  hire  the  Bishop's  house ; 
^  no  one  can  get  at  us  there/  They  are  supposed  to 
long  very  anxiously  for  the  birth  of  a  son,  for  now — 

'  That  little  something  unpossess'd 
Corrodes  and  poisons  all  the  rest.'  - 

I  walked  with  Lord  Bute  each  day.  It  was  like 
reading  ^  Lothair '  in  the  original,  and  most  interesting 
at  first,  but  became  somewhat  monotonous,  as  he  talks 
incessantly — winding  into  his  subject  like  a  serpent, 
as  Johnson  said  of  Burke — of  altars,  ritual,  liturgical 
differences ;  and  he  often  almost  loses  himself,  and 
certainly  quite  lost  me,  in  sentences  about  ^  the  Unity 
of  the  Kosmos,'  &c. 

He  spoke  much  of  Antichrist — the  mark  666,  the 
question  if  it  had  been  Nero,  or  if  Nero  was  only  a  type, 
and  the  real  Antichrist  still  to  come ;  and  of  the  other 
theory,  that  the  reason  why  no  ten  thousand  were  sealed 
of  Dan  was  that  Antichrist  was  to  come  from  that  tribe, 
the  dying  words  of  Jacob  tending  to  this  belief. 

He  talked  much  of  fasting;  that  he  had  often 
fasted  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  that  he  preferred 

^  Gwendoline  Mary-Anne,  eldest  daughter  of  Lord  Howard  of 
Glossop. 
-  Prior. 


1874]       LITERARY    WORK    AT    HOME  AND    ABROAD  2/1 


fasting  as  the  practice  existed  ^  before  the  folly  of  - 
collations.'  I  asked  if  it  did  not  make  him  ill.  He 
said  '  no/  for  if  the  hunger  became  too  great  he 
took  a  cigar,  whicli  allayed  it,  and  that  he  went  out 
and  ^  ate  the  air  '  while  taking  plenty  of  exercise ;  that 
poor  people  seldom  became  thin  in  Lent,  because  what 
they  did  eat  was  bread  and  potatoes.  I  said  I  thought 
it  must  make  him  dreadfully  ill-tempered  to  be  so 
hungry,  and  thus  conduce  rather  to  vice  than  virtue. 
He  said  he  did  not  think  it  made  him  vicious ;  but  he 
agreed  with  me  that  persons  naturally  inclined  to  be 
ill-tempered  had  better  fast  a/one. 

From  what  he  said  it  was  evident  that  he  would 
like  to  give  up  all  his  goods  to  the  poor,  and  that  the 
Island  of  Bute  stands  a  chance  of  becoming  a  vast 
monastery.  He  talked  much  of  the  Troitska  in  Russia, 
where  he  had  been ;  that  the  monks  there  were  too 
lax,  and  that  the  really  desirable  monastic  life  was 
that  of  those  who  lived  in  the  cells  estabhshed  some 
miles  off  by  Philaret,  which  were  subterranean,  with 
a  stove,  and  no  other  furniture.  When  mass  was 
celebrated  in  their  chapel,  these  anchorite  monks  could 
faintly  discern,  down  a  channel  hollowed  in  the  rock, 
the  glitter  of  the  candles  on  the  altar,  and  occasionally, 
mingled  with  this,  appeared  a  ray  or  two  of  bluish 
light,  and  this  was  daylight.  It  was  the  only  time 
they  ever  saw  it. 

Amongst  the  young  men  here  is  a  young  Ashburn- 
ham,  third  son  of  Lord  Ashburnham,  who  reads  Greek 
in  his  room  for  his  amusement,  and  is  a  lawyer,  but 
says  he  has  not  yet  been  able  to  realise  the  hymn, 
'  Brief  life  is  here  our  portion/    He  told  me  that  the 


2J2 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1874 


expression  of  minding  your  /'s  and  ^'s  came  from 
toupets  and  queues." 

Whitburn  Hall,  Nov.  24. — I  returned  here  from 
Raby  with  my  Williamson  cousins/  who  are  always 
so  kind  that  they  make  one  feel  at  Whitburn  ^  oil 
peut'on  etre  mieux  qu'au  sein  de  sa  famille  ? '  The 
place  has  much  interest  of  its  own  kind.  There  is 
something  even  fine  in  the  vast  black  cloud  of  Sunder- 
land smoke,  obliterating  the  horizon  and  giving  such 
an  idea  of  limitless  and  mysterious  space  with  the  long 
lines  of  white  breakers  foaming  up  through  the  gloom ; 
while  at  night  the  ghastly  shriek  of  the  fog-horn  and 
the  tolling  of  the  bell,  and  the  occasional  boom  of  a 
cannon  through  the  storm,  give  such  dramatic  effect  that 
one  forgets  the  waste  inland  landscape,  the  blackened 
hedges  and  wind-stricken  coalfields." 

Ravensworthj  Nov.  29. — I  was  one  night  with 
poor  Cousin  Susan  (Davidson),  much  aged  and  altered. 
She  lay  chiefly  on  a  sofa  in  her  own  sitting-room,  with 
her  two  favourite  white  dogs — the  '  boy  and  girl ' — 
Fritz  and  Lulu,  by  her  side,  and  half  the  birds  in  the 
neighbourhood  pecking  bread  and  potatoes  outside  the 
windows.  It  seemed  a  dreary  life  to  leave  her  to,  but 
she  does  not  feel  it  so ;  hers  is  one  of  the  cases  in  which 
only  the  body,  and  not  the  mind,  seems  to  require 
nourishment.  Thursday,  when  I  came  away,  was  her 
rent-day,  and  she  wished  me  to  go  and  see  her  tenants 
and  speak  to  them  at  dinner,  and  said  to  the  agent,  ^  I 

1  Sir  Hedworth  and  Lady  Elizabeth  Williamson.  The  parents  of 
both  were  first  cousins  of  my  mother. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  2/3 


wish  that  all  my  tenants  should  see  my  cousin ; '  but 
fortunately  the  train  came  at  the  right  moment  to  save 
me  from  this  alarming  encounter,  which  would  have 
given  a  (probably)  wrong  impression — at  least  to  the 
tenants. 

Lord  Ravensworth  ^  welcomed  me  with  such  cordial 
kindness,  and  has  been  so  genial  and  good  to  me  ever 
since,  that  I  quite  feel  as  if  in  him  I  had  found  the 
ideal  uncle  I  have  always  longed  for,  but  never  before 
enjoyed.  He  is  certainly  the  essence  of  ah  agreeable 
and  accomplished  scholar,  with  a  faultless  memory  and 
apt  classical  quotations  for  every  possible  variety  of 
subject.  He  told  me,  and  made  me  write  down,  the 
following  curious  story  : — 

It  is  going  back  a  long  time  ago — to  the  time 
of  Marie  Antoinette.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the 
most  faithful,  the  most  entirely  devoted  of  all  the 
gallant  adherents  of  Marie  Antoinette  was  the  Comte 
de  Fersen.  The  Comte  de  Fersen  was  ready  to  lay 
down  his  life  for  the  Queen,  to  go  through  fire  and 
water  for  her  sake;  and,  on  her  side,  if  Marie 
Antoinette  had  a  corner  in  her  heart  for  any  one 
except  the  King,  it  was  for  the  Comte  de  Fersen.^ 
When  the  royal  family  escaped  to  Varennes,  it  was 
the  Comte  de  Fersen  who  dressed  up  as  coachman 
and  drove  the  carriage ;  and  when  the  flight  to  Varennes 
failed,  and  when,  one  after  another,  he  had  seen  all  his 

^  My  mother's  first  cousin,  Henry  Liddell,  1st  Earl  of  Ravensworth. 

^  John  Axel  Fersen,  making  the  tour  of  France  at  nineteen,  was 
presented  to  the  Dauphine,  herself  nineteen,  in  1774.  Throughout  his 
friendship  with  her,  the  perfect  reserve  of  a  great  gentleman  and  great 
lady  was  never  broken. 

VOL.  IV.  S 


2  74  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  [1874 

dearest  friends  perish  upon  the  scaffold,  the  Comte  de 
Fersen  felt  as  if  the  whole  world  was  cut  away  from 
under  his  feet,  as  if  life  had  nothing  whatever  left  to 
offer,  and  he  sunk  into  a  state  of  apathy,  mental  and 
physical,  from  which  nothing  whatever  seemed  to  rouse 
him;  there  was  nothing  whatever  left  which  could  be  of 
any  interest  to  him. 

^^The  physicians  who  were  called  in  said  that  the 
Comte  de  Fersen  must  have  absolute  change;  that  he 
must  travel  for  an  unlimited  time ;  that  he  must  leave 
France ;  at  any  rate,  that  he  must  never  see  again  that 
Paris  which  was  so  terrible  to  him,  which  was  stained 
for  ever  with  the  blood  of  the  Queen  and  Madame 
Elizabeth.  And  he  was  quite  willing ;  all  places  were 
the  same  to  him  now  that  his  life  was  left  desolate :  he 
did  not  care  where  he  went. 

He  went  to  Italy,  and  one  afternoon  in  November 
he  drove  up  to  what  was  then,  as  it  is  still,  the  most 
desolate,  weird,  ghastly  inn  in  Italy — the  wind-stricken, 
storm-beaten,  lava-seated  inn  of  Radicofani.  And  he 
came  there  not  to  stay ;  he  only  wanted  post-horses 
to  go  on  as  fast  as  he  could,  for  he  was  always  restless 
to  be  moving — to  go  farther  on.  But  the  landlord  said, 
'  No,  it  was  too  late  at  night ;  there  was  going  to  be  a 
storm ;  he  could  not  let  his  horses  cross  the  pass  of 
Radicofani  till  the  next  morning.' — ^  But  3^ou  are  not 
aware,'  said  the  traveller,  'that  I  am  the  Comte  de 
Fersen.' — '  I  do  not  care  in  the  least  who  you  are,'  said 
the  landlord  ;  '  I  make  my  rules,  and  my  rules  hold  good 
for  one  as  well  as  for  another.' — '  But  you  do  not  under- 
stand probably  that  money  is  no  object  to  me,  and  that 
time  is  a  very  great  object  indeed.    I  am  quite  willing  to 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD  275 

pay  whatever  you  demand,  but  I  must  have  the  horses 
at  once,  for  I  must  arrive  at  Rome  on  a  particular  day.' — 
^  Well,  you  will  not  have  the  horses,'  said  the  landlord  ; 
'  at  least  to-morrow  you  may  have  them,  but  to-night 
you  will  not;  and  if  you  are  too  fine  a  gentleman  to 
come  into  my  poor  hotel,  you  may  sleep  in  the  carriage, 
but  to-night  you  will  certainly  not  have  the  horses.' 

^^Then  the  Comte  de  Fersen  made  the  best  of  what 
he  saw  was  the  inevitable.  He  had  the  carriage  put 
into  the  coach-house,  and  he  himself  came  into  the 
hotel,  and  he  found  it,  as  many  hundreds  of  travellers 
have  done  since,  not  half  so  bad  as  he  expected.  It 
is  a  bare,  dismal,  whitewashed  barracky  place,  but  the 
rooms  are  large  and  tolerably  clean.  So  he  got  some 
eggs  or  something  that  there  was  for  supper,  and  he 
had  a  fire  made  up  in  the  best  of  the  rooms,  and  he 
went  to  bed.  But  he  took  two  precautions ;  he  drew 
a  little  round  table  that  was  there  to  the  head  of  the 
bed  and  he  put  two  loaded  pistols  upon  it ;  and,  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  that  time,  he  made  the  courier 
sleep  across  the  door  on  the  outside. 

He  went  to  bed,  and  he  fell  asleep,  and  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  he  awoke  with  the  indescribable  sensation 
that  people  have,  that  he  was  not  alone  in  the  room,  and 
he  raised  himself  against  the  pillow  and  looked  out. 
From  a  small  latticed  window  high  in  the  opposite 
whitewashed  wall  the  moonlight  was  pouring  into  the 
room,  and  making  a  white  silvery  pool  in  the  middle 
of  the  rough  boarded  oak  floor.  In  the  middle  of  this 
pool  of  light,  dressed  in  a  white  cap  and  jacket  and 
trousers,  such  as  masons  wear,  stood  the  figure  of  a 
man  looking  at  him.    The  Comte  de  Fersen  stretched 


276  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1874 

out  his  hand  over  the  side  of  the  bed  to  take  one  of  his 
pistols,  and  the  man  said,  *  Don't  fire  :  you  could  do 
no  harm  to  me,  you  could  do  a  great  deal  of  harm  to 
yourself :  I  am  come  to  tell  you  something.'  And  the 
Comte  de  Fersen  looked  at  him  :  he  did  not  come  any 
nearer;  he  remained  just  where  he  was,  standing  in 
the  pool  of  white  moonlight,  half  way  between  the  bed 
and  the  wall ;  and  he  said,  ^  Say  on  :  tell  me  what  you 
have  come  for.'  And  the  figure  said,  '  I  am  dead^  and 
my  body  is  underneath  your  bed.  I  was  a  mason  of 
Radicofani,  and,  as  a  mason,  I  wore  the  white  dress 
in  which  you  now  see  me.  My  wife  wished  to  marry 
somebody  else ;  she  wished  to  marry  the  landlord  of 
this  hotel,  and  they  beguiled  me  into  the  inn,  and  they 
made  me  drunk,  and  they  murdered  me,  and  my  body 
is  buried  beneath  where  your  bed  now  stands.  Now 
I  died  with  the  word  vendetta  upon  my  lips,  and  the 
longing,  the  thirst  that  I  have  for  revenge  will  not  let 
me  rest,  and  I  never  shall  rest,  I  never  can  have  any 
rest,  till  I  have  had  my  revenge.  Now  I  know  that 
you  are  going  to  Rome;  when  you  get  to  Rome,  go  to 
the  Cardinal  Commissary  of  Police,  and  tell  him  what 
you  have  seen,  and  he  will  send  men  down  here 
to  examine  the  place,  and  my  body  will  be  found, 
and  I  shall  have  my  revenge.'  And  the  Comte  de 
Fersen  said,  ^  I  will.'  But  the  spirit  laughed  and  said, 
^  You  don't  suppose  that  I'm  going  to  believe ///(^/.^ 
You  don't  imagine  that  you  are  the  only  person 
I've  come  to  like  this  ?  I  have  come  to  dozens, 
and  they  have  all  said,  I  will,"  and  afterwards 
what  they  have  seen  has  seemed  hke  a  hallucination, 
a  dream,  a  chimaera,  and  before  they  have  reached 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  2// 

Rome  the  impression  has  vanished  altogether,  and 
nothing  has  been  done.  Give  me  your  hand/  The 
Comte  de  Fersen  was  a  httle  staggered  at  this ;  how- 
ever, he  was  a  brave  man,  and  he  stretched  out  his 
hand  over  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  he  felt  something 
or  other  happen  to  one  of  his  fingers  ;  and  he  looked, 
and  there  was  no  figure,  only  the  moonlight  streaming 
in  through  the  little  latticed  window,  and  the  old 
cracked  looking-glass  on  the  wall  and  the  old  rickety 
furniture  just  distinguishable  in  the  half  light;  there 
was  no  mason  there,  but  the  loud  regular  sound  of  the 
snoring  of  the  courier  was  heard  outside  the  bedroom 
door.  And  the  Comte  de  Fersen  could  not  sleep;  he 
watched  the  white  moonlight  fade  into  dawn,  and  the 
pale  dawn  brighten  into  day,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as 
if  the  objects  in  that  room  would  be  branded  into  his 
brain,  so  familiar  did  they  become — the  old  cracked 
looking-glass,  and  the  shabby  washing-stand,  and  the 
rush-bottomed  chairs,  and  he  also  began  to  think  that 
what  had  passed  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  night  was 
a  hallucination — a  mere  dream.  Then  he  got  up,  and 
he  began  to  wash  his  hands  ;  and  on  one  of  his  fingers 
he  found  a  very  curious  old  iron  ring,  which  was 
certainly  not  there  before — and  then  he  knew. 

And  the  Comte  de  Fersen  went  to  Rome,  and  when 
he  arrived  at  Rome  he  went  to  the  Swedish  Minister 
that  then  was,  a  certain  Count  Lowenjelm,^  and  the 
Count  Lowenjelm  was  very  much  impressed  with  the 
story,  but  a  person  who  was  much  more  impressed 

^  In  1879  I  told  this  story  to  the  Crown  Prince  of  Sweden  and 
Norway,  who  took  the  trouble  to  verify  facts  and  dates  as  to  the 
Lowenjelms,  &c.,  and  found  everything  coincide. 


2/8  THE   STORY    OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

was  the  Minister's  younger  brother,  the  Count  Carl 
Lowenjelm,  for  he  had  a  very  curious  and  valuable 
collection  of  peasants'  jewelry,  and  when  he  saw  the 
ring  he  said,  '  That  is  a  very  remarkable  ring,  for  it 
is  a  kind  of  ring  which  is  only  made  and  worn  in 
one  place,  and  that  place  is  in  the  mountains  near 
Radicofani.' 

^'And  the  two  Counts  Lowenjelm  went  with  the 
Comte  de  Fersen  to  the  Cardinal  Commissary  of 
Pohce,  and  the  Cardinal  also  was  very  much  struck, 
and  he  said,  'It  is  a  very  extraordinary  story,  a 
very  extraordinary  story  indeed,  and  I  am  quite 
inclined  to  believe  that  it  means  something.  But, 
as  you  know,  I  am  in  a  great  position  of  trust  under 
Government,  and  I  could  not  send  a  body  of  military 
down  to  Radicofani  upon  the  faith  of  what  may  prove 
to  have  been  a  dream.  At  any  rate  (he  said)  I  could 
not  do  it  unless  the  Comte  de  Fersen  proved  his 
sense  of  the  importance  of  such  an  action  by  being 
willing  to  return  to  Radicofani  himself.'  And  not 
only  was  the  Comte  de  Fersen  willing  to  return,  but 
the  Count  Carl  Lowenjelm  went  with  him.  The 
landlord  and  landlady  were  excessively  agitated  when 
they  saw  them  return  with  the  soldiers  who  came 
from  Rome.  They  moved  the  bed,  and  found  that 
the  flags  beneath  had  been  recently  upturned.  They 
took  up  the  flags,  and  there — not  sufficiently  corrupted 
to  be  irrecognisable — was  the  body  of  the  mason, 
dressed  in  the  white  cap  and  jacket  and  trousers,  as 
he  had  appeared  to  the  Comte  de  Fersen.  Then  the 
landlord  and  landlady,  in  true  Italian  fashion,  felt  that 
Providence   was  against   them,  and  they  confessed 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  2/9 

everything.  They  were  taken  to  Rome,  where  they 
were  tried  and  condemned  to  death,  and  they  were 
beheaded  at  the  Bocca  della  Verita. 

^'The  Count  Carl  Lowenjelm  was  present  at  the 
execution  of  that  man  and  woman,  and  he  was  the 
person  who  told  the  Marquis  de  Lavalette,  who  told 
Lord  Ravensworth,  who  told  me.  The  by-play  of  the 
story  is  also  curious.  Those  two  Counts  Lowenjelm 
were  the  natural  sons  of  the  Duke  of  Sudomania,  who 
was  one  of  the  aspirants  for  the  crown  of  Sweden 
in  the  political  crisis  which  preceded  the  election  of 
Bernadotte.  He  was,  in  fact,  elected,  but  he  had  many 
enemies,  and  on  the  night  on  which  he  arrived  to  take 
possession  of  the  throne  he  was  poisoned.  The 
Comte  de  Fersen  himself  came  to  a  tragical  end  in 
those  days.  He  was  very  unpopular  in  Stockholm, 
and  during  the  public  procession  in  which  he  took 
part  at  the  funeral  of  Charles  Augustus  (1810)  he 
was  murdered,  being  (though  it  is  terrible  to  say  so 
of  the  gallant  adherent  of  Marie  Antoinette)  beaten 
to  death  with  umbrellas.  And  that  it  was  with  no 
view  to  robbery  and  from  purely  political  feeling 
is  proved  by  the  fact  that  though  he  was  en  grande 
tenue^  nothing  was  taken  away." 

Huttofij  Yorkshire^  Nov.  30. — I  came  here  yester- 
day, arriving  in  the  dark.  It  was  a  great  surprise, 
as  1  expected  to  find  the  place  amid  the  Middles- 
borough  smoke,  to  see  from  the  window  on  awaking 
a  beautiful  view  of  high  moorland  fells  beyond  the 
terraced  gardens.  I  laugh  when  I  think  how  the 
Duchess  of  Cleveland  rejoiced  in  giving  Mrs.  Pease 


28o 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


such  a  pleasant  change  to  Raby,  to  see  this  intensely 
luxurious  house  by  Waterhouse,  filled  with  delightful 
collections  of  books,  pictures,  and  carved  furniture, 
and  its  almost  Arabian-Night-like  conservatories. 

We  have  been  through  bitter  wind  to  Guisborough 
Abbey — only  a  grand  church  front  standing  lonely  near 
a  fine  avenue  of  trees  in  the  grounds  of  Colonel 
Challoner. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pease  are  excellent.  He  is  member 
for  Darlington,  son  and  nephew  of  the  famous  Pease 
Brothers.  She,  formerly  a  Fox  of  Falmouth,  is  one 
of  the  most  charming  people  I  ever  saw,  full  of  the 
sweetest  and  simplest  natural  dignity.  She  hves  in  and 
for  her  children,  and  though  the  mother  of  six  girls 
and  two  boys,  looks  about  six-and-twenty  herself.  ^ 

''There  is  a  Mr.  Stover  here  who  is  amusing.  An 
uncle  of  his  lives  in  the  haunted  house  at  Biddick. 
One  day  when  he  came  in  from  shooting,  he  hung 
his  hat  on  a  pole-screen,  and  sat  down  by  the  fire 
to  read  his  newspaper.  Presently,  looking  over  his 
paper,  he  saw,  to  his  amazement,  his  hat  on  the  top 
of  the  screen  nodding  at  him.  He  thought  he  must 
be  dreaming,  but  watched,  and  it  certainly  nodded 
again.  He  got  up  and  walked  round  it,  when  it 
seemed  still.  Then  he  sat  down  again  and  watched 
it,  and  it  nodded  again,  and  not  only  that,  but  the 
screen  itself  seemed  to  be  moving  bodily  towards 
him.  He  watched  it,  and  it  certainly  crossed  part 
of  the  pattern  of  the  carpet :  of  this  there  could  be 
no  doubt.    Then  he  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  he 

1  Mrs.,  then  Lady  Pease,  died,  universally  beloved  and  regretted, 
in  1892. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        28  I 

rushed  at  the  screen  and  knocked  it  over.  Underneath 
was  his  tame  tortoise." 

Wentivorth  Wodehouse,  Dec.  3. — This  liouse  has 
a  very  stately  effect  as  you  approach  it,  with  a  truly 
majestic  portico.  On  the  first  floor  is  an  immense 
hall  like  those  in  the  great  Roman  houses,  and  on 
either  side  diverge  the  reception  rooms,  hung  with 
pictures.  Amongst  the  portraits  are  several  of  the 
great  Lord  Strafford,  with  his  parents,  his  son,  and  his 
two  daughters — Anne  and  Arabella.  Of  these,  the 
elder  married  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  from  whom 
the  present  owners  are  descended.  The  picture  by 
Vandyke  of  Lord  Strafford  and  his  secretary  is  glorious. 
The  rooms  themselves  want  colour  and  effect.  Sixty 
guests  can  stay  in  the  house,  and  a  hundred  and 
twenty  can  dine  without  any  crowd,  but  the  place  needs 
great  parties  of  this  kind,  for  smaller  ones  are  lost  in 
these  vast  suites  of  too  lofty  rooms.  Lord  Fitzwilliam^ 
is  the  very  type  of  a  high-bred  nobleman,  and  Lady 
Fitzwilliam  ^  has  a  sweet  and  gentle  manner  ;  but  Lady 
F.  is  calm  and  placid,  her  two  daughters  calmer  and 
placider,  and  Lord  F.  calmest  and  placidest. 

To-day  we  were  taken  by  Lord  Fitzwilliam  to  the 
two  churches.  One  by  Pearson  is  new  and  most  magni- 
ficent ;  the  other  is  old  and  very  ugly,  but  has  interest- 
ing monuments.  That  of  Lord  Strafford  is  mural,  with 
his  figure  kneeling  near  the  altar.  The  epitaph  does 
not  allude  to  the  manner  of  his  death,  but,  after  setting 
forth  his  virtues,  simply  says  ^  he  died  May  8th,  1641.' 

^  The  6th  Earl  of  Fitzwilliam. 
2  Lady  Frances  Douglas,  daughter  of  the  i8th  Earl  of  Morton. 


282  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

The  ghost  of  Lord  Strafiford  is  still  said  to  walk  down 
the  oak  staircase  at  Wentworth  every  Friday  night, 
carrying  his  head.  An  old  gateway  with  several  frag- 
ments of  the  house  of  his  time  remain,  and  many  of 
his  books  are  preserved  in  the  library.  My  bedroom 
is  hung  with  white  worked  with  red  by  his  daughter 
Lady  Rockingham." 

Dec.  4. — Lady  Fitzwilliam  has  been  showing  us  the 
house.  It  contains  much  of  interest,  especially  in 
the  pictures,  and  they  are  repeated  so  often  that  one 
learns  to  know  the  family  faces — Lord  Strafford  and 
his  three  wives,  his  son  and  his  two  daughters  by 
his  second  wife,  and  the  second  Lord  Strafford  with 
his  wife,  who  was  the  daughter  of  James,  Earl  of 
Derby,  and  Charlotte  de  la  Tremouille.  His  inscrip- 
tions in  the  Bibles  of  her  father  and  mother,  which  are 
here,  and  the  many  memorials  he  raised  to  her,  are 
so  touching  that  it  is  quite  a  shock  to  find  he  married 
again  after  her  death  ;  but  in  his  will  he  always  speaks 
of  the  second  as  only  his  wife,'^  the  first  as  his  deare 
wife."  He  restored  the  old  church  in  her  memory,  and 
enjoined  upon  his  descendants  always  to  keep  it  up 
for  her  sake. 

Lady  Albreda  drove  us  about  the  park  and  to  the 
•  Mausoleum,'  a  commemorative  monument  raised  to 
the  Minister  Lord  Rockingham  by  his  son.  It  is 
copied  from  the  Roman  monument  at  S.  Remy  near 
Aries,  and  contains,  in  a  kind  of  Pantheon,  a  statue 
by  Nollekens  of  Lord  Rockingham  surrounded  by  his 
friends.  The  face  is  from  a  mask  taken  after  death, 
and  the  figure  is  full  of  power  and  expression,  with  a 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD  283 

deprecatory  ^  Oh,  pray  don't  say  such  a  thing  as 
that;  " 

Temple  NewsaiUj  Dec.  6. — This  great  house  is  four 
miles  from  Leeds,  by  a  road  passing  through  a  squahd 
suburb  of  grimy  houses  and  muddy  lanes,  with  rotten 
palings  and  broken  paving-stones,  making  blackened 
pools  of  stagnant  water;  then  black  fields  succeed, 
with  withered  hedges,  stag-headed  trees,  and  here  and 
there  a  mountain  of  coal  refuse  breaking  the  dismal 
distances.  It  was  almost  dark  as  I  drove  up  the 
steep  park  to  the  house. 

In  an  immense  gallery,  hung  with  red  and  covered 
with  pictures,  like  the  gallery  at  Chesney  Wold  in 
Bleak  House,  I  found  Mrs.  Meynell  Ingram  and 
Freddie  Wood  ^  sitting.  It  was  like  arriving  at  a 
bivouac  in  the  desert ;  the  hght  from  the  fire  and  the 
lamps  gleamed  on  a  little  tea-table  and  a  few  chairs 
round  it,  all  beyond  was  lost  in  the  dark  immensity. 
.  .  .  Soon  other  guests  arrived — Judge  Denman,  come 
for  the  assizes  at  Leeds,  and  his  marshal,  young 
Ottaway,  the  cricketer;  Admiral  Buncombe,  the  High 
Sheriff ;  Mr.  Glyn,  Vicar  of  Beverley,  the  chaplain ; 
and  Sir  Frederick  Grey  and  his  wife  '  Barberina.' 
Some  of  the  pictures  are  very  fine — a  portrait  by 
Titian,  several  Vandykes,  Reynolds'  ^  Shepherd  Boy,' 
and  some  fine  Reynolds  portraits  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Irvine,  the  former  possessors  of  this  place  —  the 
Templar's  Stow  of  '  Ivanhoe.'  They  left  it  to  their 
five  daughters  in  turn.  The  eldest  was  Lady  Hert- 
ford, and,  if  she  had  two  sons,  it  was  to  go  to  the 

^  Eldest  daughter  and  youngest  son  of  Viscount  Halifax. 


284 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


second,  but  she  had  only  one;  the  second  daughter 
was  Lady  Alexander  Gordon,  who  was  childless ;  the 
third  was  Mrs.  Meynell,  mother-in-law  of  the  present 
possessor." 

Dec.  7. — Deep  snow  all  to-day  and  a  furious  wind. 
But  yesterday  we  reached  Leeds  for  the  assize  ser- 
mon from  the  Sheriff's  chaplain,  Mr.  Glyn,^  a  really 
magnificent  sermon  on  ^  What  is  thy  life  ? '  The 
music  also  w^as  very  fine,  and  the  great  church  filled 
with  people. 

^'This  house,  where  Lord  Darnley  was  born,  and 
whence  Lord  Strafford  issued  his  summons  to  the 
CavaHers  to  meet  in  defence  of  the  King,  is  very 
curious.  In  point  of  amusement,  the  Judge  is  the 
principal  feature  of  the  present  part}^,  and  how  he 
does  trample  on  his  High  Sheriff!  He  coolly  said 
to  him  yesterday  that  he  considered  a  High  Sheriff 
as  *  dust  under  his  feet ; '  and  he  narrated  before  him 
a  story  of  one  of  his  brother  judges,  who,  when  his 
High  Sheriff  had  left  his  hat  in  court,  not  only  would 
not  let  him  go  to  fetch  it,  but  would  not  wait  while 
his  servants  fetched  it,  and  ordered  him  instantly  to 
take  him  back  to  his  lodgings  without  his  hat !  In 
court.  Judge  Denman  was  annoyed  by  some  stone- 
breakers  outside  the  window,  and  was  told  it  would 
cost  a  matter  of  £\0  to  have  them  stopped.  '  Stop 
the  noise  instantly,^  he  said  ;  and  the  Ma3^or  had  to 
pay  for  it  out  of  his  own  pocket.  Yesterday,  when 
the  snow  was  so  deep,  the  High  Sheriff  timidly  sug- 

^  Edward  Carr  Glyn,  afterwards  Vicar  of  Kensington,  son  of  the 
1st  Baron  Wolverton. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  285 

gested  that  they  might  be  snowed  up.  ^  That  is  im- 
possible/ said  the  Judge;  ^whatever  the  difficulties, 
Mr.  High  Sheriff,  you  are  bound  to  see  me  conveyed 
to  Leeds  by  the  opening  of  the  court,  if  the  whole  of 
Leeds  is  summoned  out  to  cut  a  way  for  me.' 

Lord  Strafford  was  here  because  he  borrowed  the 
house  of  Sir  Arthur  Ingram  as  the  largest  to  which 
to  summon  the  Cavaliers.  Sir  Arthur  was  rewarded 
by  Charles  IL  for  his  devotion  to  the  Stuarts  by  being 
made  Viscount  L^vine.'' 

'^Ripley  Castle^  Dec,  12. — In  this  pleasant  hospitable 
house  I  greatly  miss  the  gentle  presence  of  the  beloved 
Lady  Ingilby,  who  was  so  long  a  kind  and  warm- 
hearted friend;  but  it  is  pleasant  to  find  her  cordial 
welcome  still  living  in  that  of  her  son,  Sir  Henry,  and 
her  pretty  graceful  daughter-in-law,  who  is  a  daughter 
of  Lord  Marjoribanks  of  Ladykirk. 

I  found  here  Count  and  Countess  Bathyany,  people 
I  was  very  glad  to  see.  They  retain  their  old  castle 
in  Hungary,  where  they  are  magnates  of  the  first  rank, 
but  for  some  years  they  have  lived  chiefly  in  England, 
at  Eaglehurst  on  the  Solent,  and  receive  there  during 
the  yachting  season.  The  Countess  has  remains  of 
great  beauty  and  is  wonderfully  agreeable.  As  I  sat 
by  her  at  dinner,  she  talked  much  of  Lady  William 
Russell,!  and  told  me  the  story  of  Lord  Moira's  appear- 
ance, which  she  had  heard  from  her  own  lips. 

Lady  Wilham  was  at  Brighton,  where  her  friend 
Lady  Betty    was  also  staying.    One  day  when 

^  Mother  of  the  9th  Duke  of  Bedford,  a  most  charming  and  hospitable 
person.    She  died  August  1874. 


286 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


Lady  Betty  went  to  her,  she  found  her  excessively 
upset  and  discomposed,  and  she  said  it  was  on  account 
of  a  dream  that  she  had  had  of  her  uncle,  who,  as 
Lord  Moira,  had  brought  her  up,  and  who  was  then 
Governor  of  Malta.  She  said  that  she  had  seen  a  very 
long  hall,  and  at  the  end  of  the  hall  a  couch  with  a 
number  of  female  figures  in  different  attitudes  of  grief 
and  despair  bending  over  it,  as  if  they  were  holding 
up  or  attending  to  some  sick  person.  On  the  couch 
she  saw  no  one,  but  immediately  afterwards  she 
seemed  to  meet  her  Uncle  Moira  and  embraced  him, 
but  said,  with  a  start,  ^  Uncle,  how  terribly  cold  you 
are !  ^  He  replied,  '  Bessie,  did  you  not  know  that  I 
am  dead  ?  '  She  recollected  herself  instantly  and  said, 
'  Oh,  Uncle,  how  does  it  look  on  the  other  side  ? ' — 
^  Quite  different  from  what  we  have  imagined,  and  far, 
far  more  beautiful,'  he  replied  with  a  radiant  smile, 
and  she  awoke.  Her  dream  occurred  just  when  Lord 
Hastings  ^  (formerly  Lord  Moira)  died  on  a  couch  in  a 
hall  at  Malta;  but  she  told  the  circumstances  to  Lady 
Betty  long  before  the  news  came.^ 

Another  story  which  Countess  Bathyany  told  from 
personal  knowledge  was  that  of  Sir  Samuel  Romilly. 

Lord  Grey  ^  and  his  son-in-law.  Sir  Charles  Wood, 
were  walking  on  the  ramparts  of  Carlisle.  The  ram- 
part is  there  still.  It  is  very  narrow,  and  there  is  only 
one  exit ;  so  if  you  walk  there,  you  must  return  as  you 

1  Lord  Moira  was  created  Marquis  of  Hastings  1816,  and  died  at 
Malta,  November  26,  1826. 

2  '*In  a  dream,  in  a  vision  of  the  night,  when  deep  sleep  falleth 
upon  men,  in  slumberings  upon  the  bed  ;  then  He  openeth  the  ears  of 
men,  and  sealeth  their  instruction." — Elihii  in  Job. 

^  Charles,  2nd  Earl  Grey. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK    AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD  287 


came.  While  they  were  walking,  a  man  passed  them, 
returned,  passed  them  again,  and  then  disappeared  in 
front  of  them  over  the  parapet,  where  there  was  really 
no  means  of  exit.  There  was  a  red  scarf  round  his 
throat.  '  How  very  extraordinary  !  and  how  exactly 
like  Sir  Samuel  Romilly ! '  they  both  exclaimed.  At 
that  moment  Sir  Samuel  Romilly  had  cut  his  throat  in 
a  distant  part  of  England. 

We  have  tea  in  the  evening  in  the  oak  room  in  the 
tower,  where  Miss  Ingilby  has  often  had  much  to  say 
that  is  interesting,  especially  this  story.^ 

A  regiment  was  lately  passing  through  Derbyshire 
on  its  wa}^  to  fresh  quarters  in  the  North.  The 
Colonel,  as  they  stayed  for  the  night  in  one  of  the 
country  towns,  was  invited  to  dine  at  a  country-house 
in  the  neighbourhood,  and  to  bring  any  one  he  liked 
with  him.  Consequently  he  took  with  him  a  young 
ensign  for  whom  he  had  taken  a  great  fancy.  They 
arrived,  and  it  was  a  large  party,  but  the  lady  of  the 
house  did  not  appear  till  just  as  they  were  going  in 
to  dinner,  and,  when  she  appeared,  was  so  strangely 
distraite  and  preoccupied  that  she  scarcely  attended  to 
anything  that  was  said  to  her.    At  dinner,  the  Colonel 

^  I  have  since  heard  this  story  as  told  by  a  Captain  Campbell,  and 
as  having  happened  in  Ireland  near  the  Curragh.  A  similar  story  is 
told  of  two  officers  invited  to  the  house  of  a  Mr.  T.  near  Dorchester. 
The  appearance  of  the  hostess  at  dinner  was  excused  on  plea  of  illness, 
and  the  younger  guest,  staring  at  the  place  where  she  would  have  sat, 
implored  his  elder  friend  to  get  him  away  from  this  devil-haunted 
place.  An  excuse  of  early  parade  was  made,  and  as  they  were  return- 
ing over  the  hills,  the  young  man  described  the  figure  of  "a  lady  with 
dripping  hair  wringing  her  hands."  Soon  afterwards  her  body  was 
found  in  the  moat  of  the  house.    It  was  Mrs.  T. 


2  88  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1874 

observed  that  his  young  companion  scarcely  ever  took 
his  eyes  off  the  lady  of  the  house,  staring  at  her  in  a 
way  which  seemed  at  once  rude  and  unaccountable. 
It  made  him  observe  the  lady  herself,  and  he  saw  that 
she  scarcely  seemed  to  attend  to  anything  said  by  her 
neighbours  on  either  side  of  her,  but  rather  seemed,  in 
a  manner  quite  unaccountable,  to  be  listening  to  some 
one  or  something  behind  her.  As  soon  as  dinner  was 
over,  the  young  ensign  came  to  the  Colonel  and  said, 
'  Oh,  do  take  me  away :  I  entreat  you  to  take  me 
away  from  this  place.'  The  Colonel  said,  '  Indeed 
your  conduct  is  so  very  extraordinary  and  unpleasant, 
that  I  quite  agree  with  you  that  the  best  thing  we  can 
do  is  to  go  away ; '  and  he  made  the  excuse  of  his 
young  friend  being  ill,  and  ordered  their  carriage. 
When  they  had  driven  some  distance  the  Colonel 
asked  the  ensign  for  an  explanation  of  his  conduct. 
He  said  that  he  could  not  help  it :  during  the  whole  of 
dinner  he  had  seen  a  terrible  black  shadowy  figure 
standing  behind  the  chair  of  the  lady  of  the  house,  and 
it  had  seemed  to  whisper  to  her,  and  she  to  listen  to 
it.  He  had  scarcely  told  this,  when  a  man  on  horse- 
back rode  rapidly  past  the  carriage,  and  the  Colonel, 
recognising  one  of  the  servants  of  the  house  they  had 
just  left,  called  out  to  know  if  anything  was  the  matter. 
'  Oh,  don't  stop  me,  sir,'  he  shouted ;  ^  I  am  going  for 
the  doctor :  my  lady  has  just  cut  her  throat.' 

I  may  mention  here  a  very  odd  adventure  which 
the  other  day  befell  my  cousin  Eliot  Yorke.  He  had 
been  dining  with  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh  at  Buckingham 
Palace,  in  company  with  Captain  Fane,  commander  of 
H.M.S.  Bellerophon  on  the  Australian  Station,  who 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD  289 


had  been  well  known  to  the  Duke  and  Eliot  when  the 
former  was  in  the  South  Pacific  in  command  of  the 
Galatea.  At  a  late  hour  Eliot  and  Captain  Fane  left 
the  Palace  to  go  to  their  club.  The  night  was  cold 
and  wet,  and,  at  a  crossing  in  Pail-Mall,  their  attention 
was  attracted  by  a  miserable-looking  little  boy,  ragged 
and  shoeless,  who,  even  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
was  still  plying  his  broom  and  imploring  a  trifle  from 
the  passers-by.  Eliot,  according  to  his  usual  custom, 
stopped  to  talk  to  the  boy  before  reheving  him.  The 
child  told  him  he  was  a  stranger  in  London,  that  he 
had  walked  there  to  seek  his  fortune  from  some  place 
on  the  south-west  coast,  that  he  was  friendless,  home- 
less, and  penniless.  The  proprietor  of  the  crossing 
had  lent  it  to  him,  with  his  broom,  for  that  day  only : 
he  had  earned  very  little,  but  Eliot's  gift  would  secure 
him  a  lodging  for  that  night,  and  then — he  supposed 
there  was  nothing  for  him  but  starvation  or  the  work- 
house. 'And  have  you  really  no  friends  or  relations 
in  the  world  ? '  said  Eliot.  '  Well,  sir,  it's  the  same 
as  if  I  had  none;  I've  one  brother,  but  I  shall  never 
see  him  again  :  I  don't  even  know  if  he  is  alive.' — '  What 

is  your  brother's  name  ?  ' — '  He  is  a  signalman  on 

board  the  Bellerophoiij  and  he's  been  away  so  long,  he 
must  have  forgotten  me.' — '  It's  perfectly  true,'  said 
Captain  Fane ;  '  that  is  the  name  of  my  signalman, 
and  a  very  smart  fellow  he  is,  and  I  see  a  strong  like- 
ness between  him  and  the  boy.'  The  end  of  the  story 
was,  that  the  two  gentlemen  secured  a  lodging  for  the 
boy,  bought  him  some  clothes,  and,  through  Captain 
Fane's  influence,  he  has  been  placed  on  board  one  of 
the  training  vessels,  the  Dreadnought y  for  the  merchant 

VOL.  IV.  T 


2go 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


service,  to  become  a  good  sailor  like  his  brother.  But 
the  combination  of  coincidences  is  most  striking  and 
providential.  The  boy  only  had  the  crossing  for  that 
one  night.  Captain  Fane,  almost  the  only  person  in 
the  world  who  could  testify  to  the  truth  of  the  story, 
was  only  in  London  for  two  nights ;  and  he  chanced  to 
be  walking  with  Eliot,  probably  the  only  person  who 
would  have  thought  of  stopping  to  talk  to  a  crossing- 
sweeper." 

Hickledon^  Dec.  12. — I  came  here  yesterday,  cor- 
dially welcomed  by  Lord  and  Lady  Halifax,  and  was 
glad  to  find  the  John  Greys  here.  In  the  evening 
my  dear  Charlie  and  Lady  Agnes  came,  but  our 
meeting  was  sadly  clouded  by  the  terrible  news  of 
poor  George  Grey's^  death  at  Sandringham.  Charlie 
had  brought  back  many  stories  from  Bedgebury.  Mr. 
Beresford  Hope  told  him  that : — 

His  uncle  Lord  Decies,  who  had  lived  very  much 
in  Paris,  met,  somewhere  abroad,  young  Lionel  Ashley, 
a  brother  of  Lord  Shaftesbury,  then  about  twenty-two, 
and  living  abroad,  as  he  was,  very  much  out  at  elbows. 
Lord  Decies  remarked  upon  a  very  curious  iron  ring 
which  he  wore,  with  a  death's-head  and  cross-bones 
upon  it.  'Oh,'  said  young  Ashley,  'about  that  ring 
there  is  a  very  curious  story.  It  was  given  to  me 
by  a  famous  conjuring  woman,  Madame  le  Norman, 
to  whom  I  went  with  two  friends  of  mine.  She 
prophesied  that  we  should  all  three  die  before  we 
were  twenty-three.    My  two  friends  are  already  dead, 

1  My  old  schoolfellow,  George,  Equerry  to  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
only  son  of  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  George  Grey. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD        29 1 

and  next  year  I  shall  be  twenty-three :  but  if  you 
like  I  will  give  you  the  ring;'  and  he  gave  it  to 
Lord  Decies.  When  Lord  Decies  returned  to  Paris, 
Lionel  Ashley  came  there  too,  and  he  frequently  dined 
with  him.  A  short  time  before  the  expiration  of  the 
year,  at  the  end  of  which  Ashley  was  again  engaged 
to  dine  with  him.  Lord  Decies  was  sitting  in  his 
room,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Lionel  Ashley  came 
in.  As  to  what  was  said,  Mr.  Hope  was  not  quite 
clear,  but  the  circumstances  were  so  singular,  that 
when  he  was  gone,  Lord  Decies  rang  the  bell,  and 
asked  the  servant  who  had  let  Mr.  Ashley  into  the 
house.  ^  Mais,  Milord,  M.  Ashley  est  mort  hier,' 
said  the  servant.' ^ 

Another  curious  story  was  that — 

Lord  Waterford  (the  third  Marquis)  was  one  day 
standing  talking  to  the  landlord  of  the  Httle  inn  in 
the  village  close  to  his  place  of  Curraghmore,  when 
some  one  rushed  up  looking  very  much  agitated,  and 
said  that  there  had  been  a  most  dreadful  murder  in 
the  neighbouring  hills.  ^  Then  it  must  be  the  little 
one,'  exclaimed  the  landlord.  ^  What  can  you  possibly 
mean  ?  '  said  Lord  Waterford,  feeling  that  the  landlord's 
knowing  anything  about  it  was  at  the  least  very 
suspicious.  ^  Well,  my  lord,'  he  said,  ^  I  am  afraid 
you  will  never  believe  me,  but  I  must  tell  you  that 
last  night  I  dreamt  that  two  men  came  to  my  inn,  a 
tall  man  and  a  little,  and  in  my  dream  I  saw  the  tall 
man  murder  the  little  man  with  a  very  curious  knife, 
the  like  of  which  I  never  saw  before.  I  told  my  wife 
when  I  woke,  but  she  only  laughed  at  me.    To  my 

^  Anthony  Lionel  Ashley,  died  Jan.  14,  1836. 


292  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1874 

horror,  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  those  very  two 
men  came  to  my  inn,  and  I  was  so  possessed  by  my 
dream,  that  I  refused  them  admittance ;  but  coming 
back  some  time  after,  I  found  that  my  wife  had  let 
them  in  when  my  back  was  turned.  I  could  not 
turn  them  out  of  my  house  when  they  were  once  in 
it,  but  going  in,  some  time  after,  with  some  refresh- 
ments, my  horror  was  increased  by  seeing  on  the  table 
between  them  the  very  knife  I  had  seen  in  my  dream. 
Then  they  paid  for  their  refreshments  and  went  away.' 

''The  dream  of  the  landlord  and  the  coincidences 
were  considered  so  extraordinary,  that  as  the  bridge 
at  Carrick-on-Suir  was  the  only  bridge  in  that  part, 
and  so  in  a  sort  of  sense  divided  the  country,  a  watch 
was  put  there,  and  in  course  of  time  a  man  exactly 
answering  to  the  landlord's  description  crossed  the 
bridge  and  was  arrested.  In  prison,  he  confessed 
that  he  had  been  in  the  cod-fishery  trade  with  his 
companion,  who  had  boasted  to  him  of  his  great 
earnings.  He  forthwith  attached  himself  to  him, 
travelled  with  him,  and  watched  for  the  opportunity 
of  murdering  him.  His  weapon  was  a  knife  used 
in  the  cod-fishery,  quite  unknown  in  those  parts."  ^ 

Hickledon,  Dec.  15. — I  have  been  indescribably 
happy  here  with  Charlie  Wood,  and  every  hour  spent 
with  him  makes  one  more  entirely  feel  that  there  is 
no  one  like  him — no  one. 

'  He  is  indeed  the  glass 
Wherein  the  noble  youth  may  dress  themselves.' 

^  I  afterwards  heard  this  story  confirmed  in  every  particular  by 
Lord  Waterford's  widow. 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD  293 

To  be  with  him  is  like  breathing  a  pure  mountain 
air  of  which  one  cannot  imbibe  enough,  and  which 
strengthens  one  for  weary  months  of  other  people. 
One  cannot  give  greater  praise  to  Lady  Agnes  than 
by  saying  that  she  is  quite  worthy  of  him.  CharHe's 
relation  to  his  parents  is  perfect.  They  often  cannot 
agree  with  his  High  Church  opinions,  but  he  never 
obtrudes  his  views  or  annoys  them,  and  while  his 
whole  life  is  what  it  is,  could  they  grudge  or  regret 
what  is  so  much  to  him  ? 

Dec,  27. — I  have  been  staying  at  Brighton  with 
old  Mrs.  Ai'de,  who  looks  like  Cinderella's  godmother 
or  some  other  good  old  fairy.  It  amused  me  exceed- 
ingly to  see  at  Brighton  an  entirely  new  phase  of 
society — two  pleasant  old  ladies,  daughters  of  Horace 
Smith,  being  its  best  and  leading  elements.  Every 
one  was  full  of  the  'Rink,'  where  all  the  young 
gentlemen  and  all  the  young  ladies  skate  all  morning 
on  dry  land,  come  home  to  luncheon,  and  skate  again 
all  afternoon.  No  balls  or  picnics  can  promote  the 
same  degree  of  intimacy  which  is  thus  engendered, 
young  men  walking  about  (on  wheels)  all  day  long, 
holding  up  and  assisting  their  partners.  I  heard  this 
curious  story : — 

The  Princess  Dolgorouki  had  been  a  great  heiress 
and  was  a  person  of  great  wealth  and  importance. 
One  day  she  was  driving  through  a  village  near  S. 
Petersburg,  when  she  heard  the  clear  glorious  voice 
of  a  young  girl  ringing  through  the  upper  air  from 
a  high  window  of  one  of  the  poor  houses  by  the 
wayside.    So  exquisitely  beautiful  was  the  voice,  that 


294  THE    STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1B74 

the  Princess  stopped  her  carriage  to  listen  to  it.  The 
voice  rang  on  and  on  for  some  time,  and,  when  it 
ceased,  the  Princess  sent  into  the  house  to  inquire 
who  the  singer  had  been.  *  Oh,'  they  said,  ^  it  is  one 
of  your  own  serfs :  it  is  the  girl  Anita ; '  and  they 
brought  the  singer  out,  a  sweet,  simple,  modest-looking 
girl  of  sixteen,  and  at  the  bidding  of  the  Princess  she 
sang  again,  quite  simply,  without  any  shyness,  in  the 
road  by  the  side  of  the  carriage.  The  Princess  was 
greatly  captivated  by  her,  and  finding  that  she  was 
educated  beyond  most  of  those  in  her  condition  of 
life,  and  being  at  that  time  in  want  of  a  reader  in 
her  palace  at  S.  Petersburg,  she  took  her  to  live  with 
her,  and  Anita  occupied  in  her  house  a  sort  of  inter- 
mediate position,  arranging  the  flowers,  and  reading 
when  she  was  wanted.  Gradually  the  Princess  became 
very  fond  of  her,  and  gave  her  masters,  under  whom 
she  made  such  astonishing  progress,  that  she  became 
quite  a  well-educated  young  lady,  while  her  glorious 
voice  formed  the  great  attraction  to  all  parties  at  the 
Dolgorouki  Palace. 

'^The  Princess  Dolgorouki  never  foresaw,  what 
actually  happened,  that  when  her  son  returned  from 
^  the  grand  tour,*  which  young  men  made  then,  and 
found  a  very  beautiful,  interesting  girl  domesticated 
with  his  mother,  he  would  fall  in  love  with  her. 
When  she  saw  that  it  was  so,  she  said  to  her  son 
that  she  had  a  great  regard  for  the  girl  and  could 
not  have  her  affections  tampered  with,  so  that 
he  had  better  go  away  again.  The  young  prince 
answered  that  he  had  no  idea  whatever  of  tamper- 
ing with  the  girFs  affections,  that  he  loved  her  and 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  295 

believed  that  she  loved  him,  and  that  he  meant  to 
marry  her. 

On  hearing  this  the  fury  of  the  Princess  knew  no 
bounds.  She  tried  to  reason  with  her  son,  and  when 
she  found  him  perfectly  impracticable,  she  expelled 
him  from  her  house  and  got  him  sent  to  France.  She 
also  sent  for  the  parents  of  Anita,  and  told  them  that 
they  must  look  out  at  once  for  a  suitable  person  for 
her  to  marry,  for  that  she  must  be  married  before 
Prince  Dolgorouki  returned.  She  said  that  she  had 
no  complaint  to  make  of  the  girl,  and  that  she  would 
help  her  to  make  a  good  marriage  by  giving  her  a 
very  handsome  dowry ;  all  that  she  required  was  that 
she  should  be  married  at  once.  Before  leaving,  how- 
ever. Prince  Dolgorouki  had  found  means  to  be  alone 
for  a  few  minutes  with  Anita,  and  had  said  to  her, 
^  I  know  my  mother  well,  and  1  know  that  as  soon  as 
I  am  gone  she  will  try  to  insist  upon  your  marriage. 
She  will  not  consider  you,  and  will  sacrifice  you  to 
the  fulfilment  of  her  own  will.  Have  faith,  however, 
in  me,  hold  out,  and  believe  that,  however  impossible 
it  may  seem,  I  shall  be  able  at  the  last  moment  to 
save  you.* 

^'The  bridegroom  whom  Anita^s  father  found  was 
a  certain  Alexis  Alexandrovitch,  a  farmer  near  their 
village  and  a  person  in  a  considerably  higher  position 
than  their  own.  He  was  rich,  he  was  much  esteemed, 
he  was  greatly  in  love  with  Anita,  but  he  was  vulgar, 
he  was  hideous,  he  was  almost  always  drunk,  and 
Anita  hated  him.  He  came  to  her  father's  house  and 
proposed.  She  refused  him,  but  he  persisted  in  perse- 
cuting her  with  his  attentions,  and  her  own  family 


296 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1874 


tried  to  force  her  consent  by  ill-treatment,  half-starved 
her,  cut  her  off  from  all  communication  with  others 
and  from  all  her  usual  employments,  and  shut  her  up 
in  a  room  at  the  top  of  the  house. 

'^At  last,  when  the  girl's  position  was  becoming 
quite  untenable  and  her  courage  was  beginning  to 
give  way,  Prince  Dolgorouki  contrived  to  get  a  note 
conveyed  to  her.  He  said,  '  I  know  all  you  are 
suffering;  it  is  impossible  that  you  can  go  on  like  this. 
Pretend  to  accede  to  their  wishes.  Accept  Alexis 
Alexandrovitch,  but  believe  that  I  will  save  you  at 
the  last  moment.' 

So  Anita  said  to  her  father  and  mother  that  she 
gave  in  to  their  wishes,  that  she  would  marry  Alexis 
Alexandrovitch.  And  the  wedding-day  was  fixed  and 
the  wedding- feast  was  prepared.  And  the  old  Princess 
Dolgorouki  gave  not  only  a  very  handsome  dowry,  but 
a  very  splendid  set  of  peasant's  jewellery  to  the  bride. 
She  did  not  intend  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony  herself, 
but  she  would  send  her  major-domo  to  represent  her. 

The  wedding-day  arrived,  and  the  bride  went  with 
her  family  to  the  church,  which  was  darkened,  with 
candles  burning  everywhere.  And  Alexis  Alexandro- 
vitch also  arrived,  rather  more  drunk  than  usual.  The 
church  was  thronged  with  people  from  end  to  end,  for 
the  place  was  within  a  drive  of  S.  Petersburg,  and 
it  was  fine  weather,  and  hundreds  of  persons  who  re- 
membered Anita  and  had  admired  her  wonderful  voice 
at  the  Dolgorouki  palace  drove  out  to  see  her  married. 
According  to  the  custom  of  the  Greek  Church,  the 
register  was  brought  to  be  signed  before  the  ceremony. 
He  signed  his  name  '  Alexis  Alexandrovitch/  and  she 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  297 

signed  her  name  'Anita/  And  the  service  began,  and 
the  crowd  pressed  thicker  and  thicker  round  the  altar, 
and  there  was  a  constant  struggle  to  see.  And  the 
service  went  on,  and  the  crowd  pressed  more  closely 
still,  and  somehow  in  the  press  the  person  who  stood 
next  to  Anita  was  not  Alexis  Alexandrovitch,  and  the 
service  went  on,  and  Anita  was  married,  and  then  the 
crowd  opened  to  let  the  bridal  pair  pass  through,  and 
Anita  walked  rapidly  down  the  church  on  the  arm  of 
her  bridegroom,  and  it  was  not  Alexis  Alexandrovitch, 
and  it  was  Prince  Dolgorouki.  And  a  carriage  and  four 
was  waiting  at  the  church  door,  and  the  bridal  pair 
leapt  into  it  and  were  whirled  rapidly  away. 

The  old  Princess  Dolgorouki  sent  at  once  to  stop 
them  at  the  frontier,  but  the  flight  had  been  so  well 
arranged,  that  she  was  too  late.  Then  she  swore  (having 
everything  in  her  own  power)  that  she  would  cut  off 
her  son  without  a  penny,  and  that  she  would  never  see 
him  again.  Happy  in  each  other's  love,  however,  the 
young  Prince  and  Princess  Dolgorouki  lived  at  Paris, 
where,  though  they  were  poor,  Anita's  wonderful  voice 
could  always  keep  them  from  want.  There,  their  two 
children  were  born.  Four  years  elapsed,  and  they 
heard  nothing  from  their  Russian  home.  Then  the 
family  lawyer  in  S.  Petersburg  wrote  to  say  that  the 
old  Princess  Dolgorouki  was  dead.  Whether  she  had 
repented  of  disinheriting  her  son  and  had  destroyed 
her  will  before  her  death,  or  whether  she  had  put  off 
making  her  unjust  will  till  it  was  too  late,  no  one  ever 
knew.  The  will  of  disinheritance  was  never  found, 
and  her  son  was  the  heir  of  all  his  mother's  vast 
estates. 


298  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1874 

''The  young  couple  set  out  with  their  children  for 
Russia  to  take  possession,  but  it  was  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  the  Prince  was  very  dehcate,  and  the  change 
to  the  fierce  cold  of  the  north  made  him  very  ill,  and 
at  some  place  on  the  frontier — Wilna,  I  think — he  died. 
The  unhappy  widow  continued  her  journey  with  her 
children  to  S.  Petersburg,  but  when  she  arrived,  the 
heir-at-law  had  taken  possession  of  everything.  '  But 
I  am  here;  I  am  the  Princess  Dolgorouki,'  she  said. 
'  No,'  was  the  answer ;  '  you  have  been  residing  for 
four  years  with  Prince  Dolgorouki,  but  the  person  you 
married  was  Alexis  Alexandrovitch,  and  the  register 
in  which  you  both  signed  your  names  before  your 
marriage  exists  to  prove  it.'  A  great  lawsuit  ensued, 
in  which  the  young  widow  lost  almost  all  the  money 
she  had,  and  eventually  she  lost  her  lawsuit  too,  and 
retired  in  great  penury  to  Warsaw,  where  she  main- 
tained herself  and  her  children  by  singing  and  giving 
music  lessons. 

''  But  at  Warsaw,  as  at  Paris,  her  beauty  and  gentle- 
ness, and  the  patience  with  which  she  bore  her  mis- 
fortunes, made  her  a  general  favourite.  Amongst  those 
who  became  devoted  to  her  was  a  young  lawyer,  who 
examined  into  the  evidence  of  the  trial  which  had  taken 
place,  and  then,  going  to  her,  urged  her  to  try  again. 
She  resisted,  saying  that  the  case  was  hopelessly  lost, 
and  besides,  that  she  was  too  poor  to  reopen  it.  The 
lawyer  said,  '  If  you  regain  the  vast  Dolgorouki  in- 
heritance, you  can  pay  me  something :  it  will  be  a 
drop  in  the  ocean  to  you ;  but  if  the  lawsuit  fails  I 
shall  expect  no  payment.'    So  she  let  him  try. 

''  Now  the  lawyer  knew  that  there  was  no  use  in 


1874]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD  299 

contending  against  the  register,  but  he  also  felt  that 
as — according  to  his  view — in  the  eyes  of  God  his 
cHent  had  been  Princess  Dolgorouki,  there  was  no 
harm  in  tampering  with  that  register  if  it  was  possible. 
It  was  no  use,  however,  to  alter  it,  as  hundreds  of 
witnesses  existed  who  had  seen  the  register  as  it  was, 
and  who  knew  that  it  contained  the  name  of  Alexis 
Alexandrovitch  as  the  husband  of  Anita,  for  the  trial 
had  drawn  attention  to  it  from  all  quarters.  It  was 
also  most  difficult  to  see  the  register  at  all,  because  it 
was  now  most  carefully  guarded.  But  at  last  there 
came  a  time  when  the  young  lawyer  was  not  only  able 
to  see  the  register,  but  when  for  three  minutes  he  was 
left  alone  with  it.  And  he  took  advantage  of  those 
three  minutes  to  do  what  ? 

He  scratched  out  the  name,  or  part  of  the  name 
of  Alexis  Alexandrovitch,  and  he  wrote  the  name  of 
Alexis  Alexandrovitch  over  again. 

Then  when  people  came  and  said,  '  But  here  is 
the  register — here  is  the  name  of  Alexis  Alexandro- 
vitch,' he  said,  'Yes,  there  is  certainly  the  name  of 
Alexis  Alexandrovitch,  but  if  you  examine,  you  will 
find  that  it  is  written  over  something  else  which  has 
been  scratched  out.' 

And  the  case  was  tried  again,  and  the  young  widow 
was  reinstated  in  the  Dolgorouki  property,  and  she 
was  the  grandmother  of  the  present  Prince  Dol- 
gorouki." 

Holmhurst^  Dec,  28. — Lea  says,  'You  may  put 
ought  to  ought  (o  to  o)  and  ought  to  ought  till  it 
reaches  to  London,  and  it  will  all  come  to  nothing  at 


300  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1875 

last  if  you  don^t  put  another  figure  to  it ' — apropos  of 
Mr.  G.  P.  neglecting  to  do  his  duty/^ 

Battle  Abbey,  Jan.  26,  1875. — The  news  of  dear 
Lady  Carnarvon's  death  came  yesterday  as  a  shadow 
over  everything.  Surely  never  was  there  a  more 
open,  lovable,  unselfish,  charming,  and  truly  noble 
character.  She  was  the  one  person  in  England  capable 
^  tenir  salon,'  to  succeed — in  a  far  more  charming  way 
— to  Lady  Palmerston's  celebrity  in  that  respect. 

'  Sat  vixit,  bene  qui  vixit  spatium  brevis  aevi  : 
Ignavi  numerant  tempore,  laude  boni.' 

Apparently  radiant  with  happiness,  and  shedding 
happiness  on  all  around  her,  she  yet  had  often  said 
latterly  that  she  '  did  not  feel  that  the  compensations 
made  up  for  the  anxieties  of  life,'  and  that  she  longed 
to  be  at  rest. 

In  the  agreeable  party  at  Battle  it  has  been  a 
great  pleasure  to  find  the  French  Ambassador  and  the 
Comtesse  de  Jarnac.  Lord  Stanhope  is  here,  and  has 
talked  pleasantly  as  usual.  Apropos  of  the  custom 
of  the  living  always  closing  the  eyes  of  the  dead,  he 
reminded  us  of  the  admirable  inscription  over  the 
door  of  the  library  at  Murcia,  '  Here  the  dead  open 
the  eyes  of  the  living.' 

He  said  how  the  Pineta  at  Ravenna  was  really  a 
change  in  gender  from  the  original  name  Pinetum  in 
the  singular :  first  it  had  become  the  plural  of  that ; 
then  Pineta  itself  had  become  a  singular  word. 

He  described  a  dreary  Sunday  spent  in  Sabba- 
tarian Glasgow,  and  how,  everything  else  being  shut 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  3OI 

up  and  forbidden,  he  had  betaken  himself  for  hours 
to  examining  the  epitaplis  in  the  churchyard,  and  at 
length  found  a  single  verse  which  atoned  for  the  bad- 
ness of  all  the  rest : — 

*  Shed  not  for  me  the  bitter  tear. 
Nor  pour  for  me  the  vain  regret, 
For  though  the  casket  is  not  here, 
The  gem  within  it  sparkles  yet.'  " 

Jan.  27. — Count  Nesselrode  has  come.  He  has 
been  describing  to  the  Duchess  how  parents  are 
always  proposing  to  him  for  their  beautiful  young 
girls  of  fifteen  or  sixteen.  He  says  that  he  answers, 
'  Est  que  a  mon  age  je  puis  songer  a  me  marier  ?  ^  and 
that  they  reply,  ^Avec  le  nom  que  vous  portez,  M.  le 
Comte,  on  est  toujours  jeune.^  .  .  '  et  ga  me  donne  le 
chair  de  poule.' 

On  the  Duchess  asking  Count  Nesselrode  after  his 
sons,  he  said  they  were  at  a  tutor's,  ^  pour  former  le 
coeur  et  Tesprit.' 

There  used  to  be  a  ghost  at  Battle  Abbey.  Old 
Lady  Webster  told  Mr.  Hussey  of  Scotney  Castle 
how  she  saw  it  soon  after  her  marriage,  an  old  woman 
of  most  terrible  aspect,  who  drew  the  curtains  of  her 
bed  and  looked  in.  Immediately  after,  Sir  Godfrey 
came  into  the  room.  '  Who  was  that  old  woman  ?  ' 
she  said.  ^  There  could  have  been  no  old  woman.' 
'  Oh,  yes,  there  was,  and  you  must  have  met  her  in 
the  passage,  for  she  has  only  just  gone  out  of  the 
room.'  In  her  old  age  Lady  Webster  would  describe 
the  pattern  on  the  old  woman's  dress,  and  say  that 
she  should  recognise  it  anywhere." 


302 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1875 


Holmkurstj  Feb,  i. — A  long  visit  to  Lord  Strat- 
ford de  Redcliffe  in  Lady  Jocelyn's  singular  house 
at  St.  Leonards,  which  you  enter  from  the  top  story. 
Lord  Stratford  is  a  grand  old  man  with  high  forehead 
and  flowing  white  hair.  He  can  no  longer  walk,  and 
sits  in  his  dressing-gown,  but  his  artistic  daughters 


THE  PINETA,  RAVENNA.^ 


make  him  very  picturesque,  hanging  his  chair  with  a 
shade  of  purple  which  matches  the  lining  and  cuffs  of 
his  dressing-gown,  &c.  He  talked  of  many  different 
people  he  had  seen,  of  Goethe,  '  who  had  a  very  high 
forehead'  (but  'the  highest  forehead  known  was  that 

1  From  "Central  Italy." 


1875]       LITERARY    WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  3O3 

of  the  immortal  Shakspeare,  who  had  every  great 
quahty  that  could  exist  phrenologically and  then  he 
spoke  of  Mezzofanti,  whom  he  had  known  personally 
in  Italy,  and  who  had  told  him  the  story  of  his  life. 
He  had  been  a  carpenter's  apprentice,  and  had  one  day 
been  at  his  work  outside  the  open  window  of  a  school 
where  a  master  was  teaching.  Having  a  smattering 
of  Greek,  which  he  had  taught  himself,  he  felt  sure 
that  he  detected  the  master  in  giving  a  wrong  explana- 
tion. This  worried  him  so  much  that  he  could  not 
get  it  out  of  his  head,  and,  after  the  school  and  his  own 
work  were  both  over,  he  rang  the  bell  and  begged  to 
see  the  master.  ^  I  was  at  work,  sir,  and  I  heard  you 
speaking,  and  I  think  you  gave  such  and  such  an 
explanation  in  Greek.' — '  Well,  and  what  do  you  know 
about  Greek  ?  ' — '  Not  much,  sir ;  but,  if  you  will  forgive 
my  saying  so,  I  am  sure  3^ou  will  find,  if  you  examine, 
that  the  explanation  was  not  the  correct  one.'  The 
master  found  that  the  young  carpenter  was  right,  and 
it  led  to  his  obtaining  friends  and  being  educated. 
Lord  Stratford  said  that  Mezzofanti  spoke  English 
perfectly  to  him,  and  excellent  modern  Greek  to  his 
servant,  and  yet  that,  apart  from  his  wonderful  versa- 
tihty  in  languages,  he  seemed  to  be  rather  a  dull  man 
than  otherwise,  utterly  wanting  in  originality. 

''Lord  Stratford  described  going  to  dine  one  day 
with  his  agent,  and  meeting  there  a  lady  whose  name 
he  did  not  catch,  but  whom  he  was  told  to  take  down 
to  dinner.  In  the  course  of  dinner  the  conversa- 
tion turned  upon  some  subject  of  mathematics,  'And 
then,'  said  Lord  Stratford,  '  I  did  what  I  have  never 
done  at  any  other  time  on  a  mathematical  question. 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1875 

I  tried  to  explain  it  and  make  it  easy  for  my  com- 
panion, who  listened  with  pohte  attention.  When  1 
went  upstairs  I  inquired  her  name,  and  it  was  .  .  . 
Mrs.  Somerville !  I  knew  her  intimately  afterwards, 
and  she  told  me  something  of  her  early  life,  which 
I  regret  should  not  have  appeared  in  her  memoirs. 
Her  childhood  was  passed  in  Burntisland,  whither 
her  brother  returned  for  his  hohdays,  having  some 
school-work  to  do  whilst  at  home.  One  day,  when  he 
was  called  out,  she  took  up  the  EucHd  he  had  been 
studying.  '  Ah  !  what  curious  Httle  designs  !  let  me  see 
if  I  can  understand  what  it  is  about. ^  And  she  found 
that  she  could,  and  devoured  Euclid  with  avidity. 
Afterwards  she  got  hold  of  her  brother's  iEschylus 
and  taught  herself  Greek  in  order  to  read  it. 

^'Lord  Stratford  talked  much  of  the  extraordinary 
change,  not  only  in  politics,  but  in  '  the  way  of  carrying 
on  politics/  since  he  was  young." 

"69  Onslow  Square^  Feb,  4. — Aunt  Sophy  ^  had  a 
pleasant  party  yesterday  of  Theodore  Martins,  Lady 
Barker,  &c.  Mrs.  Theodore  Martin's  is  a  fine  illumina- 
tive face,  like  that  of  Madame  Goldschmidt.  As  Helen 
Faucit  she  was  celebrated  as  an  actress  and  as  having 
done  her  utmost  to  elevate  the  stage;  but  I  do  not 
admire  her  reading  of  Shakspeare,  in  which  I  think 
there  is  too  much  manner.  He  is  evidently  most 
excellent.  He  talked  perfectly  simply,  but  only  when 
asked,  of  his  intercourse  with  the  Queen,  with  whom 
he  must  be  on  happy  terms  of  mutual  confidence. 


1  Miss  Wright 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  305 


Feb.  7,  1875. — Yesterday,  when  I  was  with  Louisa, 
Lady  Ashburton,  at  Kent  House,  which  is  being 
beautifully  arranged,  Lady  Bloomfield  came  in  and 
then  Mr.  Carlyle — weird  and  grim,  with  his  long  coat 
and  tall  wizard-befitting  hat.  He  talked  in  volumes, 
with  fathomless  depths  of  adjectives,  into  which  it 
was  quite  impossible  to  follow  him,  and  in  which  he 
himself  often  got  out  of  his  depth.  A  great  deal  was 
about  Garibaldi,  who  was  the  'most  absolute  incarnation 
of  zero,  but  the  inexplicable  perversity  and  wilfulness 
of  the  human  race  had  taken  him  up,  poor  creature, 
and  set  him  on  a  pedestal.^  Then  he  went  on  about 
'  the  poor  old  Pope,  so  filled  with  all  the  most  horrible 
and  detestable  lies  that  ever  were  conceived  or  thought 
of.'  He  was  like  the  man  who  asked  his  friends  to 
dinner  and  said,  '  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  piece  of  the 
most  delicious  beef — the  most  exquisite  beef  that  ever 
was  eaten,'  and  all  the  while  it  was  only  a  piece  of 
stale  brown  bread ;  but  the  host  said  to  his  guests, 
'  May  God  damn  your  souls  for  ever  and  ever,  if  you 
don't  believe  it's  beef,'  so  they  ate  it  and  said  nothing. 

''Then  he  talked  of  the  books  of  Mazzini,  which 
were  'well  worth  reading,'  and  of  Saffi,  'made  professor 
of  something  at  Oxford,  where  he  used  to  give  lectures 
in  a  moth-eaten  voice.' " 

Feb,  II. — Sir  Garnet  and  Lady  Wolseley,  Miss 
Thackeray,  and  others  dined.  I  was  not  prepared  to 
Hke  Sir  Garnet  much,  a  hero  is  usually  so  dull,  but  he 
is  charming,  so  frank  and  candid,  and  most  natural  as 
well  as  good-looking.  He  has  a  very  young  face, 
though  his  hair  is  grey,  almost  white.    Lady  Wolseley 

VOL.  IV.  u 


3o6 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1875 


is  remarkably  pretty  and  attractive;  Sir  Garnet  was 
quite  devoted  to  drawing,  and  had  a  great  collection 
of  sketches,  the  work  of  his  life.  In  the  Crimea  he 
drew  everything,  and  it  was  a  most  precious  collection  ; 
but  in  returning  it  was  all  lost  at  sea.  The  rest  of  his 
drawings  he  put  into  the  Pantechnicon,  where  they 
were  every  one  of  them  burnt.  Miss  Thackeray  has 
a  sweet  voice,  which  is  music  in  every  tone. 

I  have  frequently  seen  lately,  at  the  Lefevres',  old 
Lord  Redesdale,  with  whom  we  have  some  distant 
cousinship  through  my  Mitford  great-grandmother. 
He  is  very  kind,  clever,  old-fashioned,  and  always 
wears  a  tail-coat.  He  took  us  into  the  far-away  by 
telling  us  of  having  heard  his  father.  Speaker  Mitford, 
describe  having  known  a  man  in  Swaledale  named 
Rievely,  whose  earliest  recollection  was  of  being  carried 
across  the  Swale  by  Henry  Jenkyns  (who  lived  to 
160),  who  recollected  having  gone  as  a  boy,  with  a 
sheaf  of  arrows  and  his  elder  brother  on  a  pony, 
from  Ellerton  in  Swaledale  to  Northallerton,  to  join 
the  army  before  the  battle  of  Flodden.  He  would 
tell  all  about  the  battle  in  a  familiar  way — 'the 
King  was  not  there ;  but  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  was 
there,'  &c. 

Much  of  the  conversation  in  certain  houses  is  now 
about  Moody  and  Sankey,  the  American  'revivalists,' 
who  are  supposed  to  '  produce  great  effects.'  Moody 
preaches  and  Sankey  sings.  They  are  adored  by 
some,  others  (including  most  Americans)  think  them 
'  mere  religious  charlatans  ' — and  altogether  they  offer 
a  famous  opportunity  for  all  the  barking  and  biting 
which  'truly  religious  people'  often  delight  in." 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD  3O7 

Feb.  20. — Dined  with  the  Rafe  Leycesters  in 
Cheyne  Walk,  where  they  have  a  charming  old  manor- 
house  with  a  stone  gateway,  flagged  walk,  ancient 
bay-trees,  a  wide  staircase,  and  panelled  rooms. 
Mrs.  Leycester  was  picturesquely  dressed  like  a 
picture  by  Millais.  The  company  were  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Haweis,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tom  Taylor,  and  the  Augustus 
Tollemaches.  It  was  an  agreeable  party,  and  a  plea- 
sant dinner  in  a  room  redolent  of  violets. 

Feb,  21. — Dined  with  Lady  Margaret  Beaumont, 
who  talked  of  dress  and  the  distinction  of  a  gown 
by  Worth,  which  'not  only  looked  well,  but  walked 
well.'" 

Thorncoinbe^  Feb,  27. — This  place  is  a  dell  in  the 
undulating  hills  about  five  miles  from  Guildford,  very 
pretty  and  pleasant ;  and  our  new  cousin,  Edward 
Fisher,  to  whom  it  belongs,  is  one  of  the  kindest, 
cheeriest,  pleasantest  fellows  who  ever  entered  a  family. 

''We  have  been  to  see  Loseley,  which  belongs  to 
my  old  college  acquaintance  Molyneux — a  grand  old 
house,  gabled  and  grey,  with  a  great  hall,  and  richly 
carved  chimney-pieces  of  white  chalk,  which  looks  like 
marble.  It  has  three  ghosts,  a  green-coated  hunter, 
a  sallow  lady,  and  a  warrior  in  plate-armour.  The 
last  appeared  to  the  kitchen-maid  as  she  was  drawing 
some  beer  in  the  cellar,  and  almost  frightened  her 
out  of  her  wits." 

Londofiy  March  7,  Sunday, — Breakfast  at  Lord 
Houghton's,  who  has  adopted  Rogers'  custom  of  social 


308  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1875 

breakfasts.  It  was  a  very  amusing  party — Joaquin 
Miller^  the  American  writer,  Henry  Cowper,  Lord 
Arthur  Russell,  &c.  There  was  a  young  man  there 
whom  I  did  not  notice  much  at  first,  but  I  soon  found 
that  he  was  very  remarkable,  and  then  that  he  was 
very  charming  indeed.  It  was  Lord  Rosebery.  He 
has  a  most  sweet  gravity  almost  always,  but  when  his 
expression  does  light  up,  it  is  more  than  an  illumina- 
tion— it  is  a  conflagration,  at  which  all  around  him 
take  light.  Joaquin  Miller  would  have  been  thought 
insufferably  vulgar  if  he  had  not  been  a  notoriety : 
as  it  was,  every  one  paid  court  to  him.  However,  I 
ought  not  to  abuse  him,  as  he  suddenly  turned  round 
to  me  and  said,  '  Do  you  know,  I'm  glad  to  meet 
you,  for  you  write  books  that  I  can  read.*  Quantities 
of  good  stories  were  told — one  of  a  party  given  by 
George  IV.  as  Prince  Regent  to  the  Irish  peer  Lord 
Coleraine.  Smoking  was  allowed.  After  supper, 
when  Lady  Jersey  drank,  the  Regent  kissed  the  spot 
upon  the  cup  where  her  lips  had  rested  :  upon  which 
the  Princess  took  a  pipe  from  Lord  Coleraine's  mouth, 
blew  two  or  three  whiffs,  and  handed  it  back  to  him. 
The  Prince  was  quite  furious,  but  it  was  a  lesson." 

Holmhurstj  March  14. — Went  to  see  Lord  Strat- 
ford de  Redclifife,  who  talked  incessantly  and  most 
agreeably  for  an  hour.  He  said  how  surprised  he 
had  been  to  read  in  the  '  Greville  Memoirs  *  of  himself 
as  ill-tempered  ;  he  always  thought  he  was  '  rather  a 
good-tempered  sort  of  fellow.*  It  was  Madame  de 
Lieven  who  said  that,  and  she  had   always  hated 

^  Whose  real  name  is  Cincinnatus. 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK    AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD  309 

him.  She  prevented  him  having  an  embassy  once, 
but  they  made  peace  afterwards  through  a  comphment 
he  paid  her  at  Paris.  He  talked  of  Madame  de 
Lieven's  extraordinary  influence,  arising  chiefly  from 
our  inherent  national  passion  for  foreigners. 

I  asked  Lord  Stratford  which  he  thought  the 
most  interesting  of  the  many  places  in  which  he  had 
lived.  He  said,  'Oh,  England  is  the  most  interesting 
by  far.'  He  described  his  first  going  out  to  Constan- 
tinople, before  he  had  taken  his  degree,  only  going 
for  four  months,  and  staying  for  four  or  five  years  in 
a  position  equal  to  a  Minister.  He  took  his  degree 
afterwards,  and  by  literary  merit,  though  there  was 
a  way  then  of  giving  degrees  to  those  who  were 
employed  in  the  public  service,  and  since  then  they  had 
made  him  a  doctor  of  both  Universities.  Now,  in  his 
helplessness,  he  amused  himself  by  writing  Greek 
verses.  Once,  walking  about  his  room,  he  thought, 
'  Well,  I  have  often  written  Latin  verses ;  let  me  see 
if  I  can  write  Greek.'  And  his  Greek  has  all  come 
back  to  him." 

The  enormous  circulation  of  the  Memorials 
of  a  Quiet  Life  "  in  the  two  years  which  had 
elapsed  since  its  publication  astonished  those 
who  were  opposed  to  it ;  and  in  America  the 
sale  had  been  even  greater  than  in  England. 
Numbers  of  Americans  had  come  to  England 
entirely  from  the  desire  to  visit  the  different 
scenes  of  my  mother's  quiet  life,  and  had  gone 
in  turn  to  Toft,  Stoke,  Alton,  Hurstmonceaux, 


3IO  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1875 

Holmhurst,  and  some  even  to  the  distant 
grave  of  Lucy  Hare  at  Abbots  Kerswell.  At 
Holmhurst  there  were  frequently  many  sets  of 
visitors  in  a  day — ''pilgrims"  we  used  to  call 
them, — and  even  if  I  was  at  home  I  could  never 
bear  to  refuse  them  admittance,  while  to  my 
dear  old  Lea,  who  was  in  very  poor  health  at 
this  time,  they  were  a  positive  benefit,  in  rous- 
ing her  from  dwelling  upon  sad  recollections. 
It  was  in  answer  to  a  constantly  expressed 
desire  that,  in  the  autumn  of  1874,  I  occupied 
myself  with  the  third  volume  of  the  Memorials, 
containing  more  of  my  mother's  thoughts  upon 
especial  subjects,  and  photographs  from  family 
portraits  and  of  the  places  described  in  the  first 
two  volumes.  The  book  was,  as  it  were,  a 
gift  to  the  public.  It  had  a  large  circulation, 
but  no  remuneration  whatever  was  ever  looked 
for  or  obtained.  Soon  after  the  publication  of 
the  volume,  a  review  appeared  in  the  Spectator 
(July  8,  1876),  speaking  of  ''the  veiled  self- 
conceit  ''  with  which  Mr.  Hare  had  placed 
himself  "upon  the  voluminous  records  of  his 
family  as  upon  a  pedestal  ; "  that  Mrs.  Hare 
was  far  from  being  honoured  by  "the  capital" 
her  adopted  son  had  made  of  her,  though,  "if 
his  public  likes  and  is  willing  to  pay  for  the 
contents  of  the  family  album,  there  is  nothing 


1875]       LITERARY    WORK    AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        3  I  I 

more  to  be  said.  .  .  .  Here,  however,  let  us  be 
thankful,  is,  so  far  as  anything  can  be  pre- 
dicated safely  on  such  a  subject,  the  last  of 
the  '  Memorials,'  and  that  is  so  grateful  a 
thought  as  to  justify  tolerance  of  what  already 
is."  It  seemed  a  singular  review  to  have  been 
admitted  by  the  Spectator,  which,  four  years 
before  (December  ii,  1872),  had  written  of  the 

Memorials"  as  containing  ''passage  after  pas- 
sage worthy  of  comment  or  quotation,"  and  as 
*'an  interesting  record  of  spiritual  conflicts  and 
spiritual  joy,  free  from  narrowness  and  fana- 
ticism, and  marked  throughout  by  the  most 
guileless  sincerity."  I  suppose  that  editors  of 
reviews,  when  biassed  by  intense  personal  feel- 
ing, often  trust  to  the  public  having  forgotten 
what  has  appeared  before  in  their  pages. 

Annually,  I  had  tried  to  make  my  dearest 
mother  s  home  as  useful  as  possible  to  all  those 
in  whom  she  was  most  nearly  interested,  as 
well  as  to  keep  up  her  charities,  especially  at 
Alton.  It  had  also  been  a  great  pleasure,  with 
what  my  books  produced,  to  fit  up  a  cottage 
close  to  Holmhurst  as  a  Hospice  for  needy 
persons  of  a  better  class.  These  I  have 
always  invited  to  come  for  a  month  at  a 
time,  their  travelling  expenses  being  fully  paid, 
and  firing,  linen,  farm  and  garden  produce. 


312 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


with  an  outfit  of  grocery,  being  supplied  to 
them.  Many  are  the  interesting  and  pleasant 
persons  whom  I  have  thus  become  acquainted 
with,  many  the  touching  cases  of  sorrow  and 
suffering  with  which  I  have  come  in  contact. 
In  the  month  of  October  the  Deaconesses  of 
St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square,  for  several  years 
occupied  the  Hospice,  and  they  generally  re- 
mained over  All  Saints'  Day,  when  they  sang 
the  Te  Deum  in  the  field  round  the  twisted 
tree  where  the  dear  mother  used  to  sit — ''the 
Te  Deum  tree." 

In  the  spring  of  1875  I  was  obliged  to  go  to 
Italy  again,  to  continue  collecting  materials  for 
my  ''Cities  of  Northern  and  Central  Italy." 

To  Mary  Lea  Gidman. 

Rimiiii^  April i875- — I  made  my  first  long  lonely 
expedition  from  Turin,  goii^g  for  an  hour  by  rail  to 
the  town  of  S.  Ambrogio,  and  then  walking  up  through 
the  forests  to  the  top  of  the  high  mountain  of  S.  Michele, 
where  there  is  a  famous  monastery  in  which  the 
sovereigns  of  the  country — Dukes  of  Savoy — used  to 
be  buried  many  hundreds  of  years  ago.  It  is  a  won- 
derful place,  quite  on  the  highest  peak,  looking  into 
the  great  gorges  of  snow.  As  I  was  sketching,  the 
old  Abbot  was  led  by  on  his  mule,  and  stopped  to 
speak  to  me.  I  found  he  was  a  famous  missionary 
preacher — Carlo  Caccia — and  had  been  in  England, 
where  he  knew  Lord  Bute  well,  and  was  very  glad  to 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME  AND   ABROAD        3  I  3 


hear  of  him.  So  we  made  great  friends,  and  as  he  was 
going  to  Turin  for  Easter,  we  travelled  back  together. 

From  Turin  I  went  to  Parma,  where  I  had  a  great 
deal  of  work  to  finish.  The  cold  there  was  ferocious, 
but  I  made  the  great  excursion  I  went  for — to  Canossa, 


IL  SAGRO  DI  S.  MICHELE.l 


where  the  Emperor  Henry  IV.  performed  his  famous 
penance,  though  it  is  a  most  dreadfully  fatiguing  walk, 
either  in  snow  above  the  knees,  or  in  the  furrows  of 
streams  from  the  melted  snow.  At  Bologna  I  never 
saw  anything  like  the  snow — as  high  as  the  top  of  the 
omnibus,  and  darkening  the  lower  windows,  with  a 

^  From  "Northern  Italy." 


314  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1^75 

way  cut  through  it  down  the  middle  of  the  street.  I 
had  the  same  room  at  the  Hotel  S.  Marco  which  you 
and  the  dear  Mother  had  for  those  anxious  days  in 
1870,  and  of  course  I  seemed  to  see  her  there,  and  it 
was  a  very  sad  visit.    The  Librarian  told  me  that 


CANOSSA.l 


hundreds  of  people  had  been  to  look  at  the  portrait 
of  Clotilda  Tambroni  since  reading  the  '  Memorials.' 

We  slept  here  once  in  1857,  but  did  not  appreciate 
Rimini  properly  then,  I  think,  for  it  is  a  charming 
place,  with  a  delightful  seashore  and  interesting  old 

1  P^rom     Northern  Italy." 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        3  I  5 

town ;  but  the  country  is  strange  and  wild,  and  there 
is  not  a  sign  of  vegetation  on  the  hedges ;  so  that  when 
I  remember  the  buds  on  the  deutzia  opposite  your 
window  at  Holmhurst,  it  seems  most  dismal  in  Italy/' 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Citta  di  CastellOy  April  12,  1875. —  It  is  very  cold 
in  Italy,  but  glorious  weather  now — ceaseless  sunshine 


and  the  pellucid  skies  of  Perugino.  I  have  been  many 
great  excursions  already ;  to  the  Sagro  di  S.  Michele, 
to  desolate  Canossa,  and  to  S.  Marino  and  the  extra- 
ordinary S.  Leo  near  Rimini.  Then  from  Forli  I 
paid  an  interesting  visit  to  Count  Saffi,  one  of  the 
Roman  triumvirate,  whom  I  had  known  well  at  Oxford, 

1  From  "Central  Italy." 


3i6 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1875 


and  who  lives,  with  his  wife  (Miss  Craufurd  of  Port- 
incross)  and  many  children,  in  a  farmhouse-hke  villa 
near  the  town.  At  Ancona,  Charlie  Dalison  came  to 
meet  me,  a  pleasant  change  after  much  silence  and 
solitude.  We  went  together  to  Loreto,  and  next  day 
a  dreary  journey  to  Urbino,  which  is  more  curious 


GUBBIO. 


than  beautiful,  though  there  is  a  noble  old  palace  of 
its  Dukes.  It  was  a  thirteen  hours'  drive  thence 
through  hideous  country  to  Gubbio,  where  the  inns 
are  wretched,  but  the  town  full  of  interest.  Charhe 
left  me  at  Perugia,  and  I  came  on  here  into  the  Piero 
della  Francesca  country,  which  is  more  instructive  than 
captivating." 

1  From  *' Central  Italy." 


1875]  LITERARY  WORK  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD  3I7 
Journal. 

Forlij  April  2. — In  one  of  the  old  churches  here 
is  the  tomb  of  Barbara  Ordelaffi,  wife  of  the  Lord  of 
Forii,  who  was  one  of  the  most  intensely  wicked 
women  of  her  own  or  any  other  age.  But  her  tomb 
is  indescribably  lovely,  her  figure,  that  of  quite  a 
young  girl,  lying  upon  its  marble  sarcophagus  with 
a  look  of  innocence  and  simplicity  which  can  scarcely 
be  equalled. 

^'The  tomb  is  in  a  side-chapel,  separated  by  a 
heavy  railing  from  the  church.  Inside  this  railing, 
in  an  arm-chair,  with  his  eyes  constantly  fixed  upon 
the  marble  figure,  sat  this  morning  a  very  old  gentle- 
man, paralysed  and  unable  to  move,  wrapped  in  a  fur 
cloak.  As  I  looked  in  at  the  rails,  he  said,  ^And 
you  also  are  come  to  see  Barbara ;  how  beautiful  she 
is,  is  not  she  ? '  I  acquiesced,  and  he  said,  ^  For 
sixty  years  I  have  come  constantly  to  see  her.  It  is 
everything  to  me  to  be  here.  It  is  the  love  and  the 
story  of  my  life.  No  one  I  have  ever  known  is  half 
so  beautiful  as  Barbara  Ordelaffi.  You  have  not 
looked  at  her  yet  long  enough,  but  gradually  you 
will  learn  this.  Every  one  must  love  Barbara.  I  am 
carried  here  now;  I  cannot  walk,  but  I  cannot  live 
without  seeing  her.  My  servants  bring  me ;  they  put 
me  here ;  I  can  gaze  at  her  figure,  then  I  am  happy. 
At  eleven  o'clock  my  servants  will  come,  and  I  shall 
be  taken  home,  but  they  will  bring  me  again  to  see 
Barbara  in  the  afternoon/ 

I  remained  in  the  church.  At  eleven  o'clock  the 
servants  came.    They  took  up  the  old  gentleman  and 


3l8  THE    STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [^^75 

carried  him  up  to  the  monument  to  bid  it  farewell, 
and  then  out  to  his  carriage ;  but  in  the  afternoon, 
said  the  Sacristan,  they  would  come  again,  for  he 
always  spent  most  of  the  day  with  Barbara  Ordelaffi  ; 
when  he  was  alone  with  the  marble  figure,  he  was 
quite  quiet  and  happy,  and  as  they  always  locked  him 
into  the  chapel,  he  could  never  come  to  any  harm." 

7o  Mary  Lea  Gidman. 

Florence^  April  28. — On  Monday  I  went  to  the 
excellent  inn  at  Lucca,  and  on  Tuesday  to  the  Bagni. 
Nevg;-  was  a  place  less  altered — only  one  new  house, 
I  think,  and  very  pretty  and  rural  it  all  looked.  I 
went  up  to  the  dear  old  Casa  Bertini,  and  into  the 
little  garden  looking  down  on  the  valleys,  quite  as 
pretty  as  my  recollection  of  it.  Quintilia  (our  maid) 
was  enchanted  to  see  me,  but  has  grown  into  a  very 
old  woman,  though  only  sixty-three. 

I  liked  Lucca  better  than  all  the  other  places.  It 
was  the  festival  of  S.  Zita  when  I  was  there,  who 
was  made  a  saint  because  she  had  been  such  a  good 
servant  for  forty  years.  I  thought,  if  my  dear  Lea 
had  lived  in  those  days,  how  she  would  have  had  a 
chance  of  being  canonised." 

To  Miss  Wright. 

Florence^  May  2,  1875. — No  words  can  express 
the  fatigue  or  discomfort  of  my  Tuscan  tour.  The 
food,  in  the  mountain  convents  especially,  was  dis- 
gusting— little  but  coarse  bread  with  oil  and  garlic  ; 
the  inns  were  filthy  and  the  beds  damp ;  and  the 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK    AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD  3I9 

travelling,  in  carts  or  on  horseback,  most  fatiguing, 
often  sixteen  hours  a  day.  And  yet  —  and  yet 
how  thrilling  is  the  interest  of  Monte  Olivcto,  S. 
Gemignano,  Volterra,  La  Vernia,  Camaldoli !  " 

Journal. 

Castagnuolo^  May  3. — I  am  writing  from  the  old 
country  palace  of  the  Marchese  Lotteria  Lotharingo 


LA  VERNIA.l 


della  Stufa.  It  is  reached  by  driving  from  Florence 
through  the  low  envineyarded  country  for  five  miles. 
Then,  on  the  left,  under  the  hills,  one  sees  what  looks 
like  a  great  old  barrack,  grimy,  mossy,  and  deserted. 
This  is  the  villa.  All  outside  is  decay,  but  when  you 
enter,  there  are  charming  old  halls  and  chambers,  con- 
nected by  open  arches,  and  filled  with  pictures,  china, 
books,  and  beautiful  old  carved  furniture.    A  terrace, 

1  From  Florence." 


320 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1875 


lined  with  immense  vases  of  lilies  and  tulips,  opens  on 
a  garden  with  vine-shaded  pergolas  and  huge  orange- 
trees  in  tubs ;  and  beyond  are  the  wooded  hills. 

''The  Marchese  is  charming,  living  in  the  hearts 
of  his  people,  sharing  all  their  interests,  working  with 
them — taking  off  his  coat  and  tucking  up  his  sleeves 
to  join  in  the  sheep-shearing,  gathering  the  grapes 


CAMALDOLI. 


in  the  vintage,  &c.  But  the  presiding  genius  of  the 
place  is  Mrs.  Ross  (Janet  Duff  Gordon),  who  has 
redeemed  lands,  planted  vineyards,  introduced  new 
plans  for  pressing  the  grapes — whose  whole  heart 
and  soul  are  in  the  work  here." 

To  Miss  Wright. 

''  Vicenza^  May  20,  1875. — I  have  been  to  Genoa 
and  Pegli,  and  to  Piacenza  again  for  a  tremendous 

^  From  "  Florence." 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        32  I 


excursion  of  sixty-eight  miles,  eighteen  riding  on  a 
white  mule,  to  the  grave  of  S.  Columbano  in  the 
high  Apennines.  After  this,  the  Itahan  lakes  were 
comparative  rest.  I  thought  the  Lago  d'Iseo  far  the 
most  beautiful  of  them  all.  To-day  I  have  been  on 
a  family  pilgrimage  to  Valdagno,  where  my  grand- 
mother lived  so  happily,  and  where  my  uncle  Julius 
Hare  was  born.  There  is  much  also  here  in  Vicenza  to 
remind  me  of  a  later  past,  for  opposite  the  window  of 


BOBBIO.l 


this  room  are  the  trees  in  the  Marchese  Salvias  garden, 
where  my  dearest  Mother  took  her  last  walks. 

Journal. 

Herrenalby  m  the  Black  Forest ^  June  14. — A  week 
at  Venice  was  a  great  refreshment.  Then  I  crossed 
the  S.  Gothard  to  Lucerne  and  came  on  here.  The 
semi-mountain  air  of  this  lovely  place  is  as  refreshing 
to  the  body  as  the  pure  high-minded  Bunsen  character 

1  From  "Northern  Italy." 
VOL.  IV,  X 


3  22  THE    STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1875 

is  to  the  soul.  A  little  branch  railway  brought  me 
from  the  main  line  to  Gernsbach,  a  pretty  clean 
German  village  with  picturesque  gabled  houses  gird- 
ing a  lovely  river.  Hence  it  is  a  charming  drive  of 
two  hours  through  forest  into  the  highlands,  where 
the  wood-clad  hills  break  occasionally  into  fine  crags. 
Herrenalb  itself  takes  its  name  from  the  abbey  on 


LOVERE,  LAGO  D'ISEO.1 


the  little  river  Alb,  while  a  monastery  for  women  on 
the  same  stream  a  few  miles  off  gives  its  name  to 
'  Frauenalb.^  The  former  is  Protestant  now,  the  latter  is 
still  Catholic,  but  in  the  valley  of  Herrenalb  are  the  im- 
mense buildings  of  the  abbey,  its  great  granaries  with 
wooden  pillars,  and  the  ruins  of  its  Norman  church. 
Frances  de  Bunsen  and  one  of  her  Sternberg 


1  From  "Northern  Italy." 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  323 


nieces  met  me  in  the  valley,  and  we  were  soon  joined 
by  the  dear  old  Frau  von  Bunscn  in  her  donkey- 
chair.  At  eighty-six  her  wonderful  power  of  mind 
and  charm  of  intellect  and  conversation  are  quite 
unimpaired.  She  has  still  the  rare  art,  described  by 
Boileau,  'passer  du  grave  au  doux,  du  plaisant  au 
severe.'  The  whole  family  breakfast  at  seven,  and 
for  an  hour  before  that  the  dear  Grandmother  is  in 
the  little  terraced  garden,  examining  and  tending  her 
flowers.  The  house  is  full  of  souvenirs :  in  the 
Baroness's  own  room  is  a  large  frame  with  photo- 
graphs of  all  her  numerous  descendants,  sent  by  the 
Grand  Duchess  of  Baden  to  greet  her  first  arrival 
in  this  her  new  country  home." 

To  this  happy  visit  at  Herrenalb,  and  to 
the  long  conversations  I  used  to  have  with 
my  dear  old  friend,  walking  beside  her  donkey- 
chair  in  the  forest,  I  owe  the  power  of  having 
been  able  to  write  her  Memoirs  two  years 
afterwards.  It  was  my  last  sight  of  this  old 
friend  of  my  childhood.  I  returned  from 
Herrenalb  to  England. 

Journal. 

London,  June  23,  1875. — Called  on  Mrs.  Leslie  in 
her  glorious  old  house  in  Stratford  Place,  which  is  beau- 
tiful because  all  the  colour  is  subdued,  no  new  gilding 
or  smartness.  She  herself  sat  in  the  window  embroider- 
ing, with  the  bright  sunlight  just  glinting  on  her  rippled 
hair  and  sweet  face,  at  once  a  picture  and  a  poem.'* 


324 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1875 


June  26. — A  great  party  at  Lambeth  Palace,  the 
lawn  and  its  many  groups  of  people  very  charming. 
Going  in  to  tea  with  Miss  Elliot  down  a  narrow  passage, 
I  came  suddenly  upon  Arthur  Stanley.  In  that  moment 
I  am  sure  we  both  tried  hard  to  recollect  what  had  so 


entirely  separated  us  for  five  years,  but  we  could  not, 
and  shook  hands.  The  Spanish  Lady  Stanley  seeing 
this,  threw  up  her  hands — '  Gratias  a  Deo  !  O  gratias 
a  Deo  !  una  reconciliati5n  !  * 

In  the  evening  there  was  an  immense  party  at  Lady 
Salisbury's  to  meet  the  Sultan  of  Zanzibar.^    He  had 


^  From  "Walks  in  London." 
2  He  died  March  1888. 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD  325 

a  cold,  SO  sent  to  say  he  could  not  have  the  windows 
opened;  the  consequence  of  which  was,  that  with 
thousands  of  wax-lights  and  crowds  of  people,  the 
heat  was  awful,  positively  his  native  climate.  The 
Sultan  has  a  good,  sensible,  clever,  amused  face,  but 
cannot  speak  a  word  of  any  language  except  Arabic, 
of  which  Lady  Salisbury  said  that  she  had  learnt  some 
sentences  by  the  end  of  the  evening,  from  hearing  them 
repeated  so  often  through  the  interpreter,  and  at  last 
ventured  to  air  her  new  acquirements  herself.  When 
the  Sultan  went  away,  the  suite  followed  two  and  two 
— a  picturesque  procession.  Lord  Salisbury  walked 
first,  leading  the  Sultan,  or  rather  holding  his  right 
hand  in  his  own  left,  which  it  seems  is  the  right  thing 
to  do.  The  Sultan  was  immensely  struck  by  Lady 
Caithness,  and  no  wonder,  for  her  crown  of  three 
gigantic  rows  of  diamonds,  and  then  huge  diamonds 
and  emeralds,  had  the  effect  of  a  sunlit  wave  in  the 
Mediterranean." 

June  27,  Sunday. — To  Holland  House.  Lady 
Holland  sat  at  the  end  window,  looking  on  the  gar- 
den, with  a  group  round  her.  I  went  out  with  Lord 
Halifax,  then  with  Everard  Primrose,  who  appeared 
as  usual  from  the  library,  and  a  third  time  with  Lord 
Stanhope,  who  took  me  afterwards  in  his  carriage  to 
Aidie  Lodge.  There  the  garden  was  in  great  beauty, 
and  we  met  Lady  Airlie  sauntering  through  its  green 
walks  with  the  Duke  of  Teck.  We  went  to  sit  in  a 
tent,  where  we  found  Mr.  Doyle,  Mr.  Cheney,  and  a 
young  lady  who  greeted  me  with,  ^  Now,  Mr.  Hare, 
may  I  ask  if  you  never  can  remember  me,  or  if  you 


326 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1875 


always  intend  to  cut  me  on  purpose  ? '  It  was  Miss 
Rhoda  Broughton. 

Lady  Airlie  talked  of  the  death  of  Madame  Rossetti. 
Her  husband^  felt  so  completely  that  all  his  living 
interests  were  buried  with  his  wife,  that  he  laid  his 
unpublished  poems  under  her  dead  head,  and  they 
were  buried  with  her.  But,  after  a  year  had  passed, 
his  feehng  about  his  wife  was  calmed,  while  the  longing 
for  his  poems  grew  daily,  and  people  urged  him  that 
he  was  forcing  a  loss  upon  the  world.  And  the  coffin 
of  the  poor  lady  was  taken  up  and  opened  to  get  at  the 
poems,  and  behold  her  beautiful  golden  hair  had  grown 
and  grown  till  the  whole  coffin  was  filled  with  it — 
filled  with  it  and  rippling  over.^  Lady  Airlie  had  the 
account  from  an  eye-witness.  For  one  moment  Madame 
Rossetti  was  visible  in  all  her  radiant  loveliness,  as  if 
she  were  asleep,  then  she  sank  into  dust.  She  was 
buried  with  her  Testament  under  her  pillow  on  one 
side  and  her  husband's  poems  on  the  other. 

The  Duke  of  Teck  looked  very  handsome  and  was 
most  pleasant  and  amiable.  He  said  that  an  old 
lady  in  Germany,  an  ancestress  of  his,  had  the  most 
glorious  pearl  necklace  in  the  world,  and  when  she 
died,  she  desired  that  the  pearl  necklace  might  be 
buried  with  her.  And  the  family  were  very  sorry  to 
part  with  their  aged  relative,  but  they  were  still  more 
sorry  to  part  with  the  family  jewels  ;  and  in  time  their 
grief  for  the  old  lady  was  assuaged,  but  their  grief 
for  the  pearl  necklace  was  never  assuaged  at  all,  and 

1  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti. 

2  Professor  Forster  has  since  assured  me  that  this  was  impossible,  for 
that  hair  will  only  continue  to  grow  for  a  few  hours  after  death. 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  327 

at  last  there  came  a  moment  when  they  dug  up  the 
coffin,  and  took  the  pearl  necklace  from  the  aged  neck. 
But  behold  the  pearls  were  quite  spoilt  and  had  lost 
all  their  lustre  and  beauty.  Then  pearl-doctors  were 
summoned,  men  who  were  learned  in  such  things,  and 
they  said  that  the  only  thing  which  would  restore  the 
beauty  of  the  pearls  would  be  if  three  beautiful  young 
ladies  would  wear  them  constantly,  and  let  the  pearls 
drink  in  all  their  youth  and  beauty.  So  the  eldest 
daughter  of  the  house  took  them  and  wore  them 
constantly,  and  all  the  beauty  and  brilliancy  of  her 
loveliness  flowed  into  the  pearls,  which  grew  brighter 
and  better  every  day.  And  as  her  beauty  faded, 
another  daughter  of  the  house  took  them,  and  so  three 
beautiful  young  ladies  took  them  and  wore  them  in 
three  generations,  till,  when  sixty  years  were  passed, 
the  pearls  were  so  beautiful  and  glorious,  so  filled  with 
youth  and  radiancy,  that  there  is  no  such  pearl  necklace 
in  the  whole  world." 

June  28. — Luncheon  with  dear  old  Lady  Grey. 
Then  to  Lady  Wharncliffe,  who  looked  very  lovely  seated 
beneath  a  great  blue-green  vase  filled  with  lilies. 

''The  way  young  men  now  weary  their  friends  to 
ask  for  invitations  for  them  is  almost  as  contemptible 
as  the  conduct  of  the  ladies  who  ask  others  to  invite 
their  guests  for  them  that  they  may  'get  into  society.' 
'  Que  ne  fait-on  pour  trouver  un  faux  bonheur ! '  says 
Fenelon ;  '  quels  rebuts,  quelles  traverses  n'endure  t'on 
point  pour  un  fantome  de  gloire  mondaine !  quelles 
peines  pour  de  miserables  plaisirs  dont  il  ne  reste  que 
des  remords.' 


328 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1875 


June  29. — With  the  Archbishop  of  Dubhn,  Miss 
Trench,  and  Lady  Charles  CHnton  to  Strawberry  Hill, 
the  '  little  plaything  house '  of  Horace  Walpole.  It  had 
been  so  wet  that  one  had  almost  to  wade  from  the 
station  to  the  house,  and  the  beautiful  breakfast  was 
sopping  in  a  tent  on  the  mossy  lawn,  so  little  being  left 
in  the  house  that  the  Princess  of  Wales  had  to  drink 
her  tea  out  of  a  tumbler  in  a  corner.  Still  the  interior 
of  the  house  was  full  of  interest — the  historic  pictures, 
especially  those  of  the  three  beautiful  Waldegrave 
sisters,  and  of  Maria,  Duchess  of  Gloucester;  and 
then  in  the  gallery  are,  by  Sant  and  Bucknor,  all  the 
especial  friends  of  the  house — all  the  beautiful  persons 
who  have  stayed  there. 

Lady  Waldegrave  ^  (assisted  by  art)  looked  twenty- 
five  years  younger  than  she  did  twenty-five  years  ago. 
The  Princess  of  Wales,  in  a  pink  dress  under  black 
lace  and  a  little  hat  to  match,  copied  as  a  whole  from 
pictures  of  Anne  Boleyn,  looked  lovely. 

''In  the  evening  I  went*  to  Lady  Salisbury's  re- 
ception. At  the  latter  was  the  Sultan  of  Zanzibar. 
Suddenl}^,  in  the  midst  of  the  party,  he  said  to  Lady 
Salisbury,  '  Now,  please,  it  is  my  time  to  say  my 
prayers  :  I  should  like  to  go  into  your  room,  and  to 
be  alone  for  ten  minutes.'  And  he  did,  and  he  does 
it  four  times  a  day,  and  never  allows  anything  what- 
ever to  interfere  with  it.  The  Archbishop  of  Dublin, 
when  presented,  said,  '  I  am  glad  to  have  the  honour 
of  being  presented  to  a  man  who  has  made  a  promise 
and  kept  it'  The  Sultan  answered,  '  It  can  only  be 
your  goodness  which  makes  you  say  that.' " 

^  Daughter  of  the  famous  English  tenor,  John  Braham. 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD  329 


To  Miss  Leycester. 

How  glad  I  am  that  we  do  not  agree  about 
Sunday.  I  think  your  view  of  '  the  Sabbath '  so 
entirely  derogatory  to  all  the  dignity  and  beauty  of 
Christianity,  and  I  cannot  understand  any  one  not 
becoming  an  infidel,  if  they  think  God  so  mean  as  to 
suppose  that  He  would  consider  ^  His  day  ^  (though 
Sunday  is  only  the  Church's  day,  all  days  are  God's 
days)  dishonoured  by  walking  with  one's  intimate 
friends  in  a  garden,  or  having  tea  in  another  garden 
with  several  persons,  all  infinitely  better  and  wiser 
than  oneself  ^  I  am  amazed,'  says  Professor  Amiel, 
^  at  the  vast  amount  of  Judaism,  of  formalism,  that 
still  exists,  eighteen  centuries  after  the  Redeemer's 
declaration  that  the  letter  killeth.  .  .  .  Christian  liberty 
has  yet  to  be  won.'" 

Journal. 

June  30. — A  very  pleasant  party  in  the  Duke  of 

Argyll's  garden,  in  spite  of  a  wet  afternoon;  all  the 

little   golden-haired    daughters    of  the   house  very 

kind  in  entertaining  the  guests.     I  returned  with 

Louisa,  Lady  Ashburton,  to  her  beautiful  Kent  House. 

The  rooms,  hung  with  yellow,  with  black  doors  and 

picture-frames,  are  very  effective.     There  are  some 

semi-ruined  cartoons  of  Paul  Veronese  upon  the  stair- 
case. 

In  the  evening  I  went  to  Lady  Margaret  Beau- 
mont's to  meet  the  Queen  of  the  Netherlands,  'La 
Reine  Rouge,'  as  she  is  often  called  from  her  revo- 
lutionary tendencies.      She  sat  at  the  end  of  the 


330 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


room,  a  pleasant  natural  woman,  with  fuzzy  hair 
done  very  wide  in  curls,  and  a  quaint  little  diamond 
crown  as  an  ornament  at  the  back.  She  was  most 
agreeable  in  conversation,  and,  as  Prosper  Merimee 
says  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Panizzi,  'would  have 
been  quite  perfection,  if  she  had  not  wished  to  appear 
a  Frenchwoman,  having  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
born  in  Wiirtemburg.' 

^^Jidy  I. — Luncheon  at  Lord  Stanhope's  to  meet 
Miss  Rhoda  Broughton.  Lord  Stanhope  aired  one  of 
his  pet  hobbies — the  virtues  of  the  novel  '  Anastasius/ 
Mrs.  Hussey  says  that  his  father  used  to  say  of  him, 
'  My  son  is  often  very  prosy,  but  then  he  has  been 
vaccinated ;  ^  for  the  fourth  Earl  Stanhope  had  a  familiar 
of  whom  he  always  spoke  as  ^Tesco,'  and  Tesco  had 
inveighed  against  vaccination  to  him,  and  had  told  him 
that  to  be  vaccinated  had  always  the  effect  of  making 
the  recipient  prosy. 

Mrs.  Hussey  mentioned  this  at  a  dinner  to  Mr.  John 
Abel  Smith,  who  exclaimed,  ^  Oh,  that  accounts  for 
what  has  always  hitherto  been  a  mystery  to  me.  I 
went  with  that  Lord  Stanhope  to  hear  a  man  named 
Belloni  lecture  on  the  Tuscan  Language,''  and  we  sat 
behind  him  on  the  platform.  He  was  most  terribly 
lengthy.  Suddenly,  Lord  Stanhope  caught  him  by  the 
coat,  and,  arresting  the  whole  performance,  said,  Pray, 
sir,  have  you  ever  been  vaccinated  ?  " — Certainly,  my 
Lord,"  said  the  astonished  lecturer.  Oh,  that  is  quite 
enough;  pray  continue,"  said  Lord  Stanhope,  and  the 
lecture  proceeded,  and  Lord  Stanhope  composed  him- 
self to  sleep.'" 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD        33  I 


July  2. — A  large  sketching  party  at  Holland 
House.  We  sat  for  three  hours  in  the  Lil}^  Garden, 
with  birds  singing,  fountains  playing,  and  flowers 
blooming,  as  if  we  had  been  a  hundred  miles  from 
London.  Our  sketches  were  all  sent  in  afterwards 
to  Lady  Holland,  who  sent  them  out  in  the  order  of 
merit — Mrs.  Lowther's  first,  mine  second. 

I  dined  with  the  Ralph  Buttons  and  sat  by  Lady 
Barker,  who  was  full  of  Moody  and  Sankey,  to  whom 
she  has  been  often  with  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland, 
who  insists  upon  going  every  day.  She  sa3^s  the 
mixture  of  religious  fervour  with  the  most  intense 
toad3nsm  of  the  Duchess  was  horribly  disgusting ; 
that  the  very  gift  of  fluency  in  the  preachers  con- 
taminated and  spoilt  their  work.  Sometimes  they 
would  use  the  most  excellent  and  powerful  simile,  and 
then  spoil  it  by  something  quite  blasphemous.  Speak- 
ing of  the  abounding  grace  of  God,  Moody  compared 
Him  to  a  banker  who  scolded  the  man  who  only  drew 
for  a  penny,  when  he  might  draw  for  a  pound  and 
come  again  as  often  as  he  Hked.  So  far  the  sermon 
was  admirable,  and  all  understood  it ;  but  then  he 
went  on  to  call  it  the  ^  Great  I  Am  Bank,'  and  to  cut 
all  sorts  of  jokes,  whilst  the  audience  roared  with 
laughter;  that  when  a  man  presented  his  cheque,  how- 
ever large — 'Here  ye  are,  says  I  Am,'  &c. 

'^Went  on  to  the  ball  at  Dorchester  House,  which 
was  beautiful ;  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  and 
the  Tecks  were  there.  The  great  charm  of  the 
house  is  in  the  immensely  broad  galleries,  which  are 
so  effective  when  filled  with  beautiful  women,  relieved, 
Hke  Greek  pictures,  against  a  gold  background.  Miss 


332 


THE   STORY  OF   MY  LIFE 


Violet  Lindsay,  in  a  long  white  dress  embroidered 
with  gold  and  a  wreath  of  gold  oak-leaves,  was  quite 
exquisitely  lovely." 

July  3. — Breakfast  with  Sir  James  Lacaita  to 
meet  Mr.  Gladstone,  Lord  Napier  and  Ettrick,  and 


DORCHESTER  HOUSE.^ 


the  Marchese  Vitelleschi.  The  great  topic  was 
Manning.  About  him  and  Roman  Catholicism  in 
general,  Gladstone  seems  to  have  lost  all  temperance, 
but  told  much  that  was  curious.  He  described  the 
deathbed  of  Count  Streletski  and  Manning's  attempts 
to  get  in.    Lacaita  said  that  there  was  a  lady  still 


1  From  "Walks  in  London." 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  333 

living  to  whom  Manning  had  been  engaged — ^fatto 
rimpegno ' — and  that  he  had  jilted  her  to  marry  one 
of  two  heiress  sisters  :  now^  whenever  she  hears  of 
any  especial  act  of  his,  she  says,  ^As  ever,  fickle 
and  false/ 

^  False,'  said  Gladstone,  '  always,  but  never  fickle.' 

Lacaita  described  the  illness,  the  apparently  hope- 
less illness,  of  Panizzi,  when  he  and  Mr.  Winter  kept 
guard.  The  Padre  Mela  came  and  tried  to  insist  upon 
seeing  the  patient.  He  told  the  Padre  it  was  quite 
impossible,  but,  upon  his  insisting,  he  assured  him 
that  if  Panizzi  rallied,  he  would  at  once  mention  the 
Padre's  wish.  At  that  time  it  was  ^impossible,  as 
Panizzi  was  quite  unconscious.'  When  the  Padre 
heard  that  Panizzi  was  insensible,  he  implored  and 
besought  an  entrance  '  basta  anche  un'  istante,'  but  was 
positively  and  sternly  refused. 

^^The  next  day  Panizzi  rallied,  upon  which  both 
Lacaita  and  Mr.  Winter  thought  it  necessary  to 
mention  the  strong  wish  of  the  Padre  Mela  to  see  him. 
'Oh,  il  birbone  ! '  said  Panizzi, '  vuol  dunque  convertirmi,' 
and  he  was  so  excited,  that  in  order  to  content  him 
they  were  obliged  to  engage  a  policeman  to  stand 
constantly  at  the  door  to  keep  the  priests  out. 

Gladstone  said  he  knew  that  the  Pope  (Pius  IX.) 
had  determined  against  declaring  the  doctrine  of 
personal  infallibility,  till  Manning  had  fallen  at  his 
feet,  and  so  urged  and  implored  him  to  do  so,  that  at 
length  he  had  consented.  He  (Gladstone)  upheld  that 
there  was  no  going  back  from  this,  and  that  even  in 
case  of  the  Pope's  death,  the  condition  of  the  Roman 
Church  was  absolutely  hopeless.     Vitelleschi  agreed 


334 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1875 


SO  far,  that  if  a  foreign  Pope  were  chosen,  for  which 
an  effort  would  be  made,  there  was  no  chance  for  the 
Church  ;  but  if  an  Itahan  were  elected — for  instance, 
Patrizi  or  Bilio,  who  had  especially  opposed  the  doctrine 
of  personal  infallibility — the  sense  of  the  doctrine  would 
be  so  far  modified  that  it  would  practically  fade  into 
nothingness,  and  that  every  advantage  would  be  taken 
of  the  Council  not  being  yet  closed  to  make  every 
possible  modification. 

Vitelleschi  lamented  the  utter  want  of  religious 
education  in  modern  Italy — that  he  had  been  in  schools 
where,  when  asked  who  Jesus  Christ  was,  all  the  boys 
differed,  one  saying  that  he  was  a  prophet,  another 
something  else  ;  that  when  the  question  was  put  to 
Parliament  how  morality  was  to  be  taught  without 
religion,  the  answer  was,  ^  Faremmo  un  trattato  morale.' 

Lord  Napier  every  now  and  then  insisted  on  atten- 
tion, and  delivered  himself  of  some  ponderous  para- 
graph, on  which  occasions  Gladstone  persistently  and 
defiantly  ate  strawberries." 

July  4. — Tea  at  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland's.  Lord 
John  Manners  was  there.  They  were  full  of  the  dog- 
Minos  and  his  extraordinary  tricks.  In  invitation 
cards  to  parties,  '  To  meet  the  dog  Minos '  is  now 
constantly  put  in  the  corner.  When  told  to  take 
something  to  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  room, 
however,  he  made  a  mistake,  and  took  it  to  the  Queen, 
who  flicked  him  with  her  pocket-handkerchief ;  and 
then  he  took  it  to  the  Princess  of  Wales.  Being  left 
alone  in  the  room  with  a  plate  on  which  there  were 
three  sandwiches,  he  could  not  resist  eating  them,  but 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK    AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD        33  5 


found  three  visiting  cards  and  deposited  them  in  their 
place !  " 

July  7. — A  party  at  Holland  House.  The  old 
cedars,  the  brilliant  flowers,  and  more  briUiant  groups 
of  people,  made  a  most  beautiful  scene. 

July  8. — A  party  at  Lady  Airlie's  for  the  Queen 
of  Holland — very  pleasant." 

July  9. — Luncheon  at  Mrs.  Harvey  of  Ickwell- 
bury's.  The  whole  family  were  full  of  Nigger  stories  : 
— of  a  man  who,  being  pursued  by  an  Indian  for  the 
sake  of  his  scalp,  and  finding  escape  hopeless,  pulled 
off  his  wig  and  presented  it  with  a  bow,  upon  which 
the  Indian  fell  down  and  worshipped  him  as  a  god ! — 
Of  a  negro  who,  on  being  told  that  the  strait  path 
to  heaven  was  full  of  thorns  and  difficulties,  said, 
'  Den  dis  ere  nigger  take  to  the  woods  ! ' 

July  II. — To  hear  Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  preach. 
It  was  most  interesting — upon  the  love  of  God.  He 
began  by  saying  that  he  would  not  undertake  to  prove 
the  existence  of  God,  for  'God  is,  and  those  who 
love  Him  know  it.' 

He  said,  '  Think  in  everything  which  you  are 
about  to  do,  whether  it  will  be  for  the  good  of  the 
human  race ;  if  not,  if  it  is  only  good  for  yourself, 
your  family,  your  society,  don't  do  it :  that  is  the 
love  of  God. 

'  Fight  against  all  power  which  in  the  name  of 
religion  seeks  to  narrow  it.    Fight  against  all,  whether 


336 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1875 


of  caste  or  family,  which  seeks  to  elevate  one  power 
to  the  exclusion  of  another;  for  the  perfection  of  the 
whole  human  nature,  that  is  God's  will.  This  is 
the  service  we  must  give  to  Him,  which  separates 
worship  from  selfishness,  and  makes  it  more  praise 
than  prayer :  thus,  with  our  sails  filled  with  the  winds 
of  God,  may  we  drive  over  the  storms  of  the  human 
race  to  the  harbour  of  unity/ 

July  12. — To  luncheon  at  Lord  Northampton's, 
but,  except  Lady  Marion  Alford,  I  do  not  much  like 
the  Comptons.  Lady  Alwyn,  who  is  charming,  was 
very  amusing  about  them.  '  Lord  Alwyn  pretends  not 
to  hear;  that  is  because  he  is  displeased,  for  he  thinks 
I  am  abusing  the  Comptons.  He  cannot  bear  me  to 
find  fault  with  any  of  his  ancestors,  however  remote 
they  may  be,  for  he  thinks  that  the  Comptons  are 
quite  perfect,  and  always  have  been.  When  1  first 
married,  I  hoped  to  have  made  a  compromise,  and 
I  told  Lord  Alwyn  that  if  he  would  give  up  to  me 
his  great-grandfather,  I  would  spare  all  the  rest ; 
but  he  wouldn't.  .  .  .  After  all,  the  Comptons  were 
quite  ruined,  and  we  owe  everything  to  old  Sir  John 
Spencer  who  lived  at  Crosby  Hall  in  the  City,  and 
he  had  so  poor  an  opinion  of  the  Comptons,  that  he 
wouldn't  let  the  Lord  Northampton  of  that  day  marry 
his  daughter  on  any  account.  But  Lord  Northampton 
dressed  up  as  the  baker's  boy  and  carried  his  bride  off 
on  his  head  in  a  basket.  He  met  Sir  J.  Spencer  on 
the  stairs,  who  gave  him  a  sixpence  for  his  punctuality, 
and  afterwards,  when  he  found  out  that  his  daughter 
was  in  that  basket,  swore  it  was  the  only  sixpence 


1875]       LITERARY    WORK    AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD        3  37 

of  his  money  Lord  Northampton  should  ever  see. 
But  the  next  year  Queen  Ehzabeth  asked  him  to  come 
and  be  'gossip'  with  her  to  a  newly-born  baby,  whom 


CROSBY  HALL.l 

she  hoped  he  would  adopt  instead  of  his  disinherited 
daughter,  and  he  could  not  refuse;  and  you  may 
imagine  whose  that  baby  was.' 

Five-o'clock  tea  at  Ashburnham  House.  The 


^  From     Walks  in  London. 

VOL.  IV. 


Y 


338 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1875 


pictures  there  are  beautiful,  a  Mantegna  and  several 
Ghirlandajos,  and  it  is  a  charming  old  house  in  itself. 
In  the  evening  to  a  party  at  the  Duchess  of  Cleve- 
land's given  to  the  blind  Duke  of  Mecklenburg  and  his 
Duchess." 

Highcliffe^  July  18. — The  usual  party  are  here.  .  .  . 
Lady  Jane  Ellice  is  full  of  a  theory  that  she  is  an 
Israelite,  that  we  are  all  members  of  the  lost  tribes 
of  Israel,  that  our  royal  family  are  the  direct  descend- 
ants of  Tepha,  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Zedekiah, 
who  was  brought  to  Ireland  by  Jeremiah,  and  married 
to  its  king. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  Hamilton  has  much  that  is  interest- 
ing to  tell  of  her  old  embassy  life  in  France.  She 
was  at  S.  Leu  the  day  before  the  Due  de  Bourbon's 
death.  She  would  not  go  in,  though  urged  to  do  so, 
because  '  that  woman,  Madame  de  Feucheres/  was  there, 
but  heard  how  well  the  Duke  was,  preparing  for  the 
chase,  'never  better  in  his  life.'  The  next  day,  in 
returning  to  Paris,  their  carriage  was  passed  and 
repassed  by  quantities  of  royal  servants  riding  to 
and  fro.  At  last  they  asked  why  it  was.  The  Due 
de  Bourbon  was  dead,  found  hung  up  to  the  blind  of 
the  window. 

^'A  few  days  before,  the  Duke  had  declared  his 
intention  of  altering  his  will  in  favour  of  the  Comte  de 
Chambord.  Previously  Chantilly  had  been  settled  upon 
the  Due  d'Aumale.  Madame  de  Feucheres  had  said 
long  before  to  Louis  Philippe,  '  Leave  it  all  to  me.' 

Madame  de  Feucheres  (once  an  orange-girl  at 
Southampton)  was  left  enormously  rich.    She  promised 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD  339 

to  settle  all  her  property  on  the  Due  d'Aumale  if  the 
Duchess  of  Orleans  would  receive  her.  Mrs.  Hamilton 
Hamilton  was  seated  at  the  end  of  the  room  between 
the  Duchesse  Decazes  and  another  great  lady  of  the 
old  regime.  Suddenly  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  got 
up  and  crossed  the  whole  room  to  receive  some  one 
at  the  door.  Generally  she  remained  in  her  place, 
making  only  one  step  even  for  a  duchess.  It  was 
Madame  de  Feucheres  who  entered. 

^^At  the  Court  of  Charles  X.  it  was  the  Dauphine 
who  received.    She  was  very  severe  in  her  manner 
and  had  a  very  harsh  voice :  it  was  as  if  the  shadow 
of  the  Temple  always  rested  upon  her.    The  Duchesse 
de  Berri  was  of  gentler  manners,  but  less  wise.  When 
the  family  of  Charles  X.  fled  affer  the  revolution  of 
four  days,  the  deputation  going  to  offer  the  crown  to 
Louis  Philippe  found  he  was  out ;  they  found  only 
the  Duchess  of  Orleans.    She  was  horrified  at  the 
very  idea  and  refused  point-blank,  saying  that  her 
husband  would  never  do  such  a  wrong  to  his  cousin 
— '  Grace  a  Dieu  !  mon  mari  ne  sera  pas  usurpateur.' 
Going  through  the  garden  at  Neuilly,  however,  the 
deputation  met  Madame  Adelaide,  who  asked  what 
their  business  was,  and  being  told  what  the  Duchess 
had  answered,  said,  ^Oh,  mais  mon  fr^re  accepte, 
certainement  il  accepte ; '  and  her  view  was  definitive. 
She  never  separated  from  her  brother  afterwards,  and 
he  always  deferred  to  her  opinion ;  indeed,  as  Napoleon 
used  to  say,  she  was  ^  the  only  man  of  the  family.'  The 
whole   family  paid   her   great  attention.    She  was 
enormously  rich,  and  made  the  Prince  de  Joinville  her 
heir.    Louis  PhiHppe  chose  her  epitaph  in  the  vaults 


340 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1875 


at  Dreux.  It  is  from  Gen.  xii.  13:  ^Thou  art  my 
sister,  and  it  has  been  well  with  me  for  thy  sake/ 

Mrs.  Hamilton  Hamilton  was  the  first  person 
Queen  Marie  Amelie  sent  for  after  her  accession.  She 
went  in  the  evening,  and  found  the  Queen  sitting  at  a 
table  with  Madame  Adelaide  and  one  other  lady,  the 
wife  of  the  Swedish  Minister.  A  place  was  given  to 
her  between  the  Queen  and  Madame  Adelaide.  The 
first  words  of  the  Queen  seemed  ominous — '  Nous  avons 
laisse  notre  bonheur  a  Neuilly,  Madame  Hamilton.' 
But  Madame  Adelaide  instantly  took  up  the  conversa- 
tion, and  talked  of  a  bullet  which  she  had  found  in  her 
mirror,  saying  that  she  should  never  have  the  mirror 
mended,  but  should  preserve  it  as  ^  un  souvenir 
historique.' 

Lady  Waterford  says  how  much  brighter  and  happier 
people  are  for  having  something  young  about  them, — 
a  young  lady,  a  child,  a  young  dog  even.  She  says,  '  I 
want  to  make  a  picture  of  Hope  painting  the  future 
in  the  brightest  colours.  It  will  be  such  a  beautiful 
subject.  A  rainbow  will  pour  into  the  room  and  all  its 
colours  be  reflected  on  her  palette.'  " 

July  20. — Lady  Waterford  and  the  Ellices  w^ent  to 
Broadlands,  and  returned  in  the  evening  radiant,  and 
full  of  the  Conference,  with  which  they  were  delighted. 
I  was  very  sorry  indeed  to  be  too  ill  to  go,  these 
Broadland  'Conferences'  being  quite  a  t3^pe  of  the 
times. 

''They  had  a  delightful  drive  through  the  forest  and 
halted  at  Lyndhurst,  visiting  the  '  King's  House  '  and 
seeing  the  stirrup  which  is  said  to  have  belonged  to 


1875]       LITERARY    WORK   AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD        34  I 


William  Riifus.  It  is  of  gigantic  size,  and  was  probably 
really  intended,  when  dogs  were  forbidden  in  the  forest, 
as  a  sort  of  standard  of  measurement,  only  dogs  which 
could  pass  through  that  stirrup  being  allowed. 

At  Broadlands,  after  luncheon,  they  went  out  on  the 


■a" 


THE  GARDEN  PORCH,  HIGHCLIFFE.l 

lawn,  where  the  Conference  was  proceeding  under  some 
fine  beech-trees.  ^  It  was  Hke  a  Claude,'  said  Lady 
Waterford,  the  view  being  over  the  water,  with  a 
temple  on  one  side  and  a  cypress  cutting  the  sky.' 
Mr.  Cowper  Temple  opened  the  afternoon  meeting  with 
a  little  speech ;  a  Nonconformist  minister  followed, 

1  From  "  The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


342 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1875 


and  then  the  High  Church  Mr.  Wilkinson  gave  an 
address.  The  most  remarkable  thing  he  told  was  a 
story  of  a  young  lady  who  went  to  a  meeting  and 
returned  resolved  to  dedicate  herself  to  God.  She 
wrote  down  her  dedication,  and  then  said,  ^  It  shall  be 


THE  SUNDIAL  WALK,  HIGHCLIFFE.^ 

from  to-day.'  Then  she  considered  that  there  was  so 
much  to  be  done,  &c. — ^  It  shall  be  in  three  years.' 
Again  she  hesitated  and  altered  what  she  had  written — 
^  I  may  not  live  :  it  shall  be  to-night.'  But  finally  she 
thought  again  how  much  there  was  she  wanted  to  do 
first,  and  finally  wrote — ^  In  three  weeks  I  will  dedicate 

1  From  "The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives." 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  343 

myself  to  God/  In  the  morning  the  paper  was  found 
with  all  the  different  erasures  and  alterations,  but  the 
young  lady  was  dead.  .  .  .  Several  other  speakers 
followed,  and  then  Mr.  Cowper  Temple  knelt  on  the 
gravel  and  prayed :  all  was  most  simple  and  earnest. 

Here  at  Highcliffe  we  have  sat  in  the  library  in 
the  morning,  the  great  Brugmantia  bursting  into  its 
bloom  of  scarlet  bells  in  the  conservatory  beyond, 
Lady  Waterford  painting  at  her  table,  the  rest  work- 
ing beneath  the  stained  window/* 

Heckfield  Place^  August  13. — This  is  a  beautiful 
open  country  with  lovely  woods  and  purple  heaths 
studded  with  groups  of  fine  old  firs.  The  grounds  of 
Heckfield  itself  are  delightful,  and  the  house,  of  red 
brick,  stands  upon  a  high  bastioned  terrace  filled  with 
brilliant  flower-beds  and  overlooking  undulating  green 
lawns  and  an  artificial  sheet  of  water. 

^'Lord  Eversley  and  his  daughter  Emma  received 
me  with  most  cordial  kindness  and  a  real  family  wel- 
come, and  it  was  pleasant  to  see  so  many  interesting 
pictures  of  our  common  ancestors, — on  the  staircase 
a  full-length  of  my  great-grandmother  Mrs.  Hare, 
as  a  young  girl  tripping  along  with  her  apron  full 
of  flowers.  There  are  fine  portraits  of  her  father  and 
mother ;  and  her  sister,  Helena  Lefevre,  is  represented 
again  and  again,  from  youth  to  age. 

'^Lord  and  Lady  Selborne  have  been  here.  He 
has  a  stiff  manner,  but  warms  into  much  pleasant- 
ness, and  she  is  very  genial :  their  daughter,  Sophy, 
is  a  union  of  both.  I  went  with  Lord  Selborne  and 
Miss  Palmer  to  Strathfieldsaye.    The  Duke  (of  Wei- 


344 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


lington)^  dressed  like  a  poor  pensioner,  received  us 
in  his  uncomfortable  room,  where  Lord  Selborne,  who 
has  a  numismatical  mania,  was  glad  to  stay  for  two 
hours  examining  coins.  Meanwhile  the  Duke,  finding 
we  were  really  interested,  took  Miss  Palmer  and  me 
upstairs,  and  showed  us  all  his  relics.  It  was  touch- 
ing  to  see  the  old  man,  who  for  the  greater  part  of 
his  lifetime  existed  in  unloving  awe  of  a  father  he 
had  always  feared  and  been  little  noticed  by,  now, 
in  the  evening  of  life,  treasuring  up  every  reminiscence 
of  him  and  considering  every  memorial  as  sacred. 
In  his  close  stuffy  little  room  were  the  last  pheasants 
the  great  Duke  had  shot,  the  miniatures  of  his  mother 
and  aunt  and  of  himself  and  his  brother  as  children, 
his  grandfather's  portrait,  a  good  one  of  Marshal  Saxe, 
and  the  picture  of  the  horse  Copenhagen.  Most  of 
the  bedrooms  were  completely  covered  with  prints 
pasted  on  the  walls.  It  was  the  great  Duke's  fancy. 
Some  of  them  are  amusing,  but  the  general  effect  is 
poor  and  bad,  and  the  medley  curious,  especially  in 
some  rooms  where  they  were  framed  in  crowds — 
Lord  Eldon,  Melancthon,  and  views  of  the  Alhambra 
together.  In  the  hall  hung  a  fine  beginning  of  a 
picture  of  the  great  Duke,  painted  by  Goya  at  Madrid. 
Before  it  was  finished  the  army  had  moved  on  to 
Salamanca.  The  Duke  had  then  been  made  Captain- 
General  of  the  forces,  and  upon  the  Spanish  com- 
mander saying  in  a  huff,  ^  I  will  not  serve  under  a 
foreigner,'  Goya  rejoined,  ^And  I  will  not  finish  his 
portrait.'    And  he  never  did. 

Strathfieldsaye  is  an  unprepossessing  house — as 
the  Duke  himself  said,  Mike  a  great  cottage.' 


J875J       LITERARY    WORK    AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD  345 


Lord  Eversley  gave,  as  a  curious  instance  of  the 
awe  in  which  the  great  Duke  kept  his  Duchess,  that 
Mrs.  Lefevre,  going  one  day  to  visit  her,  found  her 
dissolved  in  tears.  When  she  asked  the  reason,  the 
Duchess  said,  sobbing,  ^Look  there,'  and  from  the 
window  Mrs.  Lefevre  saw  workmen  cutting  down  all 
the  ivy  which  made  the  whole  beauty  of  the  trees 
before  the  house ;  and  when  Mrs.  Lefevre  asked  the 
Duchess  why  she  did  not  remonstrate,  she  showed 
her  a  written  paper  which  the  head  man  had  just 
brought  in,  having  received  it  from  the  Duke — ^  Field 
Marshal  the  Duke  of  Wellington  desires  that  the  ivy 
may  immediately  be  cut  down  from  every  tree  on  his 
estate.'  They  had  begun  with  those  nearest  home; 
the  Duke  had  evidently  forgotten  to  except  those,  but 
his  order  could  not  be  trifled  with. 

One  day  the  great  Duke  was  much  surprised  by 
receiving  a  letter  which  he  read  as  follows  : — ^  Being 
in  the  neighbourhood,  I  venture  to  ask  permission  to 
see  some  of  your  Grace's  best  breeches.  C.  London.* 
He  answered  to  the  Bishop  of  London  that  he  had 
great  pleasure  in  assenting  to  his  request,  though  he 
must  confess  it  had  given  him  very  considerable 
surprise.  London  House  was  thrown  into  confusion. 
The  note  was  from  Loudon,  the  great  gardener,  and 
^  breeches  '  should  have  been  read  ^  beeches.'  ^ 

^^We  went  on  to  Silchester,  which  is  one  of  the 
three  walled  Roman  towns  of  England,  Wroxeter  and 
Risborough  being  the  others.  The  walls,  three  miles 
in  circumference,  are  nearly  perfect.  In  the  centre  is 
the  forum,  an  immense  square,  315  feet  by  276,  sur- 

^  Story  told  me  by  Sir  J.  Shaw  Lefevre. 


346 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1875 


rounded  by  shops,  amongst  which  those  of  the  oyster- 
monger,  game-seller,  butcher,  and  jeweller  have  been 
identified.  One  house  retains  its  curious  apparatus 
for  warming  very  perfect." 

Heckfieldy  August  14. — Yesterday  Colonel  Townley 
came  to  dine,  celebrated  for  his  ride  of  eight  hundred 
miles  without  stopping.  It  was  of  great  importance 
that  certain  despatches  from  our  Government  should 
reach  Constantinople  before  the  Austrian  messenger 
could  deliver  his,  and  Colonel  Townley  accomplished 
it.  When  within  a  few  hours  of  Constantinople,  an 
old  wound  opened  from  his  exertion,  and  he  felt 
almost  dying;  but  just  then  he  caught  sight  of  the 
Austrian  envoy  coming  over  the  brow  of  a  distant 
hill,  and  it  nerved  him,  and  he  rode  on  and  arrived 
first.  It  gained  him  his  colonelcy.  He  is  a  pleasant, 
handsome,  unaffected  man.'' 

Deanery  J  Salisbury^  August  15. — I  came  here 
yesterday  morning  to  the  Venerable  Dean  Hamilton 
of  eighty-two,  and  his  wife  of  seventy-two.  He  was 
a  Cambridge  friend  of  my  uncle  Julius  Hare,  and 
lived  in  the  same  circle,  of  Thirlwall,  Whewell,  Sedg- 
wick, and  the  Malcolms,  &c.  His  mind  has  all  its  old 
power,  and  he  has  much  that  is  most  interesting  to 
tell  of  all  the  people  he  has  seen.  He  gave  a  curious 
account  of  breakfasts  at  the  house  of  Ugo  Foscolo, 
where  everything  was  served  by  the  most  beautiful 
maidens  in  picturesque  dresses.  He  described  the 
eccentric  Mr.  Peate,  who  lived  in  Trinity,  but  never 
came  out  of  his  rooms  except  to  dinner  or  supper, 


1875]       LITERARY   WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  347 

when  he  always  appeared  to  the  moment.  When  Dr. 
Parr  dined,  Mr.  Peate  drew  him  out  in  Combination 
Room,  but  retired  at  the  usual  hour;  only  on  going 
away,  he  walked  up  to  Dr.  Parr  and  said,  ^  I  will  take 
leave  of  you,  sir,  in  words  which  may  possibly  not 
be  unfamiliar  to  you,'  and  made  a  long  set  compli- 
mentary speech  in  honour  of  learning;  it  was  all 
taken  word  for  word  from  an  essay  Dr.  Parr  had 
published  many  years  before ;  Peate's  memory  was 
so  very  extraordinary.  It  was  not,  however,  always 
very  convenient,  for  if  a  neighbour  at  dinner  affirmed 
an  opinion,  Peate  would  sometimes  say,  ^  On  such  a 
day  or  such  a  year  you  expressed  such  and  such  an 
opinion,  which  was  exactly  the  reverse  of  this,'  for 
he  never  forgot  anything,  even  the  very  terms  of  an 
expression. 

There  is  here  in  Salisbury  the  usual  familiar  society 
of  a  cathedral  close — the  Canon  in  residence  and  the 
other  inhabitants  meeting  and  going  in  and  out  of 
each  others'  houses  at  all  hours.  With  Canon  Douglas 
Gordon  I  have  been  to  the  Palace,  where  we  found  the 
Bishop  in  his  garden,  which  is  quite  lovely,  the  rich 
green  and  brilliant  flowers  sweeping  up  into  and 
mingling  with  the  grey  arcades  and  rich  chapels  of 
the  cathedral ;  and  from  all  points  the  tall  heaven- 
soaring  spire  is  subHme,  especially  in  the  purple 
shadows  of  evening,  with  birds  circling  ceaselessly 
round  it. 

^^The  Palace  has  a  grand  dull  room  full  of  portraits 
of  deceased  bishops,  where  we  had  tea.  Bishop 
Moberly,  who  is  still  rather  schoolmasterish,  has  no 
end  of  daughters,  all  so  excellent  that  it  has  been 


348 


THE    STORY  OF    MY  LIFE 


observed  that  whenever  a  colonist  sends  home  for  a 
commendable  wife,  you  may,  with  the  most  perfect 
confidence,  despatch  a  Miss  Moberly.'^ 

August  1 6. — To  Breamore,  the  fine  old  Elizabethan 
house  of  Sir  Edward  Hulse,  almost  gutted  by  fire  some 
years  ago.  I  was  taken  up  to  the  housetop  to  survey 
several  surrounding  counties,  and  sat  the  rest  of 
the  afternoon  with  the  family  in  the  shade  of  the  old 
red  gables.  Two  very  handsome  boys,  Edward  and 
Westrow,  asked  for  a  story." 

Stajimer  Parky  August  i8. — I  came  here  yester- 
day to  Lord  Chichester's.  It  is  a  moderate  house  in  a 
dullish  park,  with  fine  trees  and  a  bright  flower-garden. 
We  pray  a  great  deal,  and  Lord  Chichester — who  is 
intensely  good — makes  little  sermons  at  prayers.  .  .  . 
Lord  Pelham  is  very  amusing  under  a  quiet  manner. 
^  I  thought  I  heard  your  dulcet  tones,  my  love,  so  1 
am  coming  out  to  you,'  he  is  just  saying,  as  he  steps 
through  the  open  window  to  his  wife  upon  the 
verandah." 

Oct,  4. — A  most  charming  visit  to  Lady  Mary 
Egerton  at  Mountfield  Court.  Mr.  Charles  Newton  1  of 
the  British  Museum  is  here,  w^ho  is  always  charming, 
with  ripple  of  pleasantest  anecdote  and  kindly,  genial 
manners.    He  says  : — 

General  Skenk  had  a  monkey  and  a  parrot,  which 
hated  each  other.  One  day  he  imprudently  went  out, 
leaving  them  alone  together  in  a  room.    When  he 

^  Afterwards  Sir  Charles  Newton.    He  died  Nov.  28,  1894. 


1875]       LITERARY    WORK   AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD  349 

came  back,  the  monkey  was  sitting  in  his  arm-chair, 
bleeding  profusel}^,  and  looking  very  sheepish  and 
ashamed  of  himself,  while  the  floor  was  covered  with 
feathers.  The  parrot  had  disappeared,  but  while 
General  Skenk  was  looking  for  any  further  remains  of 
it,  out  from  under  a  sofa  walked  a  perfectly  naked 
bird,  and  said,  ^  What  a  hell  of  a  time  we've  had  ! ' 

Mr.  Newton  was  at  a  spiritual  seance.  An  old 
man  of  the  party  was  told  that  the  spirit  manifested 
was  his  wife,  upon  which  he  said : — 

'  Is  that  you,  'Arriet  ?  ' 

'  Yes,  it's  me.' 

'  Are  you  ^appy,  'Arriet  ?  ' 
^^'Yes,  very  'appy.' 

'  'Appier  than  you  were  with  me,  'Arriet  ?  ' 

^  Yes,  much  'appier.' 

'  Where  are  you,  'Arriet  ?  ' 

'  In  'ell.' 

Mr.  Newton  says  that  the  cry  of  the  wood-pigeon 
is  '  Sow  peas,  do,  do.'  There  is  a  bird  in  Turkey  of 
which  the  male  seems  to  say  a  string  of  words  mean- 
ing '  Have  you  seen  my  sheep  ?  '  when  the  female  re- 
plies, ^No,  I  have  not  seen  them.'  They  are  said  to 
be  a  shepherd  and  shepherdess  who  lost  all  their  sheep 
and  died  of  a  broken  heart,  when  they  were  turned 
into  birds.  But  the  interesting  point  is  that  the  story 
is  found  in  an  old  Greek  novel — ^  Longus.' 

'The  origin  of  the  Torlonia  family,'  said  Mr.  Newton, 
'is  very  curious.  When  Pius  VII.  wished  to  excom- 
municate Napoleon  I.,  he  could  not  find  any  one  who 
was  bold  enough  to  affix  the  scomunica  to  the  doors 
of  the  Lateran.    At  length  an  old  man  who  sold 


3  50  THE    STORY   OF  MY    LIFE  [1875 

matches  was  found  who  ran  the  risk  and  did  it.  On 
the  return  of  the  Pope  in  triumph,  the  old  man  was 
offered  any  favour  he  Hked,  and  he  chose  the  monopoly 
of  tobacco.  From  that  time  every  speculation  that  the 
Torlonias  entered  upon  was  sure  to  answer.' 

'^The  late  Prince  Torlonia,  being  at  Naples,  went 
into  the  room  where  the  public  appointments  were  sold 
by  auction.  He  left  his  umbrella  there,  and  went  back 
to  get  it  while  the  sale  was  going  on.  The  bidders, 
chiefly  Neapolitan  nobles,  were  aghast  to  see  the  great 
Torlonia  reappear,  and  at  last,  after  some  consultation, 
one  of  them  came  up  to  him  and  said  they  would  give 
him  60,000  francs  if  he  would  leave.  Instead  of  show- 
ing the  intense  astonishment  he  felt  at  this  most  un- 
expected proposal,  Torlonia  only  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  said,       poco,'  and  they  gave  him  100,000. 

^'The  only  other  guests  at  Mountfield  are  a  Mr. 
Baker,  a  Gloucestershire  squire,  and  his  wife.  He  is 
an  excellent  man,  and  was  the  first  who  instituted  a 
Reformatory.  This  he  did  first  at  his  own  expense, 
but  the  Government  bought  it  from  him.  He  speaks 
with  the  most  dreary  voice.  Mr.  Newton  says  it  is 
^just  the  sort  of  utterance  he  should  be  grateful 
for  if  he  was  making  his  last  speech  upon  the 
scaffold.^ 

*^  Sonningj  Dec,  30. — My  ever-kind  friend  Lord 
Stanhope  died  on  Christmas  Eve.  It  was  only  two 
years  from  the  time  of  dear  Lady  Stanhope's  death, 
on  New  Year's  Eve,  1873.  She  left  a  paper  for  her 
husband — what  she  called  her  ^Last  Words' — imploring 
him,  for  her  sake,  to  go  back  to  his  literary  interests, 


l87Sl       LITERARY   WORK   AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD        35  I 

not  to  give  up  what  had  been  his  work,  to  try  to  fill  up 
the  blank  in  his  Hfe. 

^'When  Lord  Stanhope  was  dying,  he  said  touch- 
ingly  to  Lady  Mohun,  ^  You  know  what  my  dearest 
Emily  asked  of  me  in  her  last  words.  I  have  tried  to 
do  as  she  wished,  and  you,  my  dear,  have  been  such  a 
good  and  kind  daughter  to  me,  you  have  almost  made 
me  wish  io  live.^ 

I  have  been  spending  charming  days  with  Hugh 
Pearson.  He  says,  ^  What  will  become  of  a  country  in 
which  the  upper  classes  are  content  to  be  fed  upon 
Farrar's  '  Life  of  Christ '  and  the  middle  classes  upon 
Moody  and  Sankey  ?  '  He  told  me  of  Justice  Knight 
Bruce's  capital  lines — 

'  The  ladies  praise  our  curate's  eyes  ; 
I  cannot  see  their  light  divine  : 
He  always  shuts  them  when  he  prays, 
And,  when  he  preaches,  closes  mine.' " 


XVIII 


LONDON   WALKS  AND  SOCIETY 

"  It  is  an  inexpressible  pleasure  to  know  a  little  of  the  world,  and  to 
be  of  no  character  or  significancy  in  it." — Steele. 

"  Arranging  long-locked  drawers  and  shelves 
Of  cabinets,  shut  up  for  years. 
What  a  strange  task  we've  set  ourselves  ! 

How  still  the  lonely  room  appears  ! 
How  strange  this  mass  of  ancient  treasures, 
Mementos  of  past  pains  and  pleasures." 

"  Be  wisely  worldly,  be  not  worldly  wise." — Quarles. 

No,  when  the  fight  begins  within  himself, 
A  man's  worth  something." — Browning. 

My  three  thick  volumes  of  the  ''Cities  of 
Northern  and  Central  Italy"  appeared  in  the 
autumn  of  1875,  a  very  large  edition  (3000 
copies)  being  printed  at  once.  They  were  im- 
mediately the  object  of  a  most  violent  attack 
from  Mr.  Murray,  who  saw  in  them  rivals 
to  his  w^ell-known  red  handbooks.  A  most 
virulent  and  abusive  article  appeared  upon 
my    work   in    the    Athe^imtm,  accusing  me, 

amongst  otlier  things,  of  having  copied  from 

352 


LONDON   WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


353 


Murray's  Handbooks  without  acknowledg- 
ment, and  quoting,  as  proof,  passages  relating 
to  Verona  in  both  books,  which  have  the  same 
singular  mistake.  It  was  certainly  a  curious 
accident  which  made  me  receive  the  proof- 
sheets  of  Verona  when  away  from  home  on  a 
visit  at  Tunbridge  Wells,  where  the  only  book  of 
reference  accessible  was  Murray's  Handbook 
of  Northern  Italy,"  which  I  found  in  the  house, 
so  that  the  mistakes  in  my  account  of  Verona 
were  actually  copied  from  Murray's  Handbook, 
to  which  I  was  indebted  for  nothing  else  what- 
ever, as  (though  much  delighted  with  them 
when  they  first  appeared)  I  had  for  years  found 
Murray's  Handbooks  so  inefficient,  that  I  had 
never  bought  or  made  any  use  of  them,  prefer- 
ring the  accurate  and  intelligent  Handbooks  of 
the  German  Gsel-fels.  Mr.  Murray  further  took 
legal  proceedings  against  me,  because  in  one  of 
my  volumes  I  had  mentioned  that  the  Italian 
Lakes  were  included  in  his  Swiss  rather  than 
his  Italian  Handbooks  :  this  having  been  altered 
in  recent  years,  but  having  been  the  case  in 
the  only  volumes  of  his  Handbooks  I  had  ever 
possessed.  On  all  occasions,  any  little  literary 
success  I  met  with  excited  bitter  animosity 
from  Mr.  Murray. 

Another  curious  attack  was  made  upon  me 

VOL.  IV.  z 


354 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


by  the  eccentric  Mr.  Freeman,  the  historian  of 
the  Norman  Conquest.  He  had  published 
in  the  Saturday  Review  a  series  of  short 
articles  on  the  Italian  cities,  which  I  always 
felt  had  never  received  the  attention  they 
deserved,  their  real  interest  having  been  over- 
looked owing  to  the  unpopularity  of  the  dog- 
matic and  verbose  style  in  which  they  were 
written.  Therefore,  really  with  the  idea  of 
doing  Mr.  Freeman  a  good  turn,  I  had  rather 
gone  out  of  my  way  to  introduce  extracts  from 
his  articles  where  I  could,  that  notice  might 
thus  be  attracted  to  them — an  attention  for 
which  I  had  already  been  thanked  by  other 
little-read  authors,  as,  whatever  may  be  the 
many  faults  of  my  books,  they  have  always  had 
a  large  circulation.  But  in  the  case  of  Mr. 
Freeman,  knowing  the  singular  character  of  the 
man,  I  begged  a  common  friend  to  write  to  his 
daughter  and  amanuensis  to  mention  my  inten- 
tion, and  ask  her,  if  her  father  had  no  objection 
to  my  quoting  from  his  articles,  to  send  me  a 
list  of  them  (as  they  were  unsigned),  in  order 
that  I  might  not  confuse  them  with  those  of 
any  other  person.  By  return  of  post  I  received, 
without  comment,  from  Miss  Freeman,  a  list  of 
her  father's  articles,  and  I  naturally  considered 
this  as  equivalent  to  his  full  permission  to  quote 


LONDON   WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


355 


from  them.  I  was  therefore  greatly  surprised, 
when  Mr.  Freeman's  articles  appeared  soon 
afterwards  in  a  small  volume,  to  find  it  intro- 
duced with  a  preface,  the  whole  object  of  which 
was,  in  the  most  violent  manner,  to  accuse  me 
of  theft.  I  immediately  published  a  full  state- 
ment of  the  circumstances  under  which  I  had 
quoted  from  Mr.  Freeman  in  sixteen  different 
newspapers.  Mr.  Freeman  answered  in  the 
Times  by  repeating  his  accusation,  and  in  the 
Guardian  he  added,  ''Though  Mr.  Hare's 
conduct  was  barefaced  and  wholesale  robbery, 
I  shall  take  no  further  notice  of  him  till  he 
has  stolen  something  else."^ 

Mr.  Freeman  made  himself  many  enemies, 
but  he  did  not  make  me  one  ;  he  was  too  odd. 
His  neighbour,  the  Dean  of  Wells,  Johnson, 
could  not  bear  him.  When  there  was  an 
Archaeological  Meeting  at  Wells,  it  was  thought 
that  peace  might  be  made  if  the  Dean  could 
be  persuaded  to  propose  the  historian's  health 
at  the  dinner.  The  Dean  was  quite  willing, 
but  he  began  his  speech  unfortunately  with — 
I  rise  with  great  pleasure  to  propose  the 
health  of  our  eminent  neighbour,  Mr.  Freeman 

^  I  need  scarcely  say  that,  as  soon  as  possible  thereafter,  I  eliminated 
all  reference  to  Mr.  Freeman,  and  all  quotations  from  his  works,  from 
my  books. 


356 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


the  historian,  a  man  who — in  his  own  personal 
characteristics — has  so  often  depicted  for  us  the 
savage  character  of  our  first  forefathers." 

But  in  spite  of  these  little  catastrophes  attend- 
ing its  publication,  I  am  certain  that  ''Cities 
of  Northern  and  Central  Italy,"  which  cost  me 
far  more  pains  and  labour,  and  which  is  more 
entirely  original,  than  all  my  earlier  books  put 
together,  was  by  far  the  best  of  my  writings,  up 
to  that  time. 

Before  the  book  was  out,  I  was  already  de- 
voted to  a  new  work,  suggested  by  the  great 
delight  I  had  long  found  in  London,  and  by  the 
desire  of  awakening  others  to  an  enjoyment  of 
its  little-known  treasures.  A  set  of  lectures 
delivered  at  Sir  John  Shaw-Lefevre  s  house  in 
Seymour  Street,  and  a  series  of  articles  in 
Good  Words,  laid  the  foundation  for  my 
''Walks  in  London."  When  employed  in  this 
work,  as  in  all  my  others,  I  felt  all  those  portions 
of  life  to  be  the  most  interesting  which  were 
spent  in  following  out  any  one  single  purpose. 

Journal. 

Jan.  18,  1876. — I  went  to  Cobham  for  three  days 
last  week.  Deep  snow  was  on  the  ground,  but  the 
visit  was  deHghtful.  I  was  dehghted  to  find  Lady 
Pelham  there,  always  so  radiant  and  cordial,  and 
so  perfectly  simple.     Of  the  other  guests,  the  most 


1876] 


LONDON   WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


357 


interesting  were  Lord  and  Lady  Harris.  There  were 
also  a  great  many  Kentish  men,  hunting  clergy, 
who  dressed  in  top-boots,  &c.,  during  their  visit,  but 
departed  in  ecclesiastical  attire/' 

Jan.  19. — Yesterday  I  went  to  Lady  Taunton. 
She  has  a  beautiful  portrait  of  her  daughter  by  young 
Richmond — a  sort  of  play  upon  every  possible  tone  of 
yellow — a  yellow  gown,  a  yellow  background,  a  great 
cushion  worked  with  yellow  sunflowers,  yellow  hair 
looped  up  with  pearls,  only  a  great  white  hving  lily  to 
throw  it  all  back.    It  is  a  most  poetical  picture. 

In  the  evening  I  went  to  a  supper  at  the  house  of 
young  F.  P.  to  meet  a  whole  society  of  young  actors, 
artists,  &c.  Eden  was  there,  known  in  the  stage 
world  as  Herbert,  a  name  he  took  to  save  the  feelings 
of  his  episcopal  uncle,  Lord  Auckland.  His  is  a  fine 
and  a  charming  face,  but  rather  sad.  .  .  .  There  were 
about  fourteen  men  present,  very  good  singing,  and 
then  supper,  much  kindness  and  cordiality,  and  not 
a  word  which  all  their  mothers  and  sisters  might  not 
have  heard.  It  would  not  have  been  so  at  college  or 
in  a  mess-room  :  so  much  for  mahgned  actors.'' 

Jan,  21. — To  see  Frederick  Walker's  pictures.  It 
is  an  interesting  collection,  as  being  the  written  mind 
of  one  man.  You  see  the  same  picture  over  and  over 
again,  from  its  first  sketch  of  an  idea — merely  a  floating 
idea — to  its  entire  completion,  and  it  is  interesting  to 
know  how  slow  a  growth  of  thought  was  required  to 
lead  up  to  something,  which,  after  all,  was  not  so  very 
wonderful  in  the  end.    The  pictures  are  not  beautiful. 


3S8  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

but  the  man  who  did  them  must  have  been  charming, 
such  a  simple  lover  of  farmhouse  life,  apple-orchards, 
and  old-fashioned  gardens,  with  a  glory  of  flowers — 
all  the  right  kinds  of  flowers  blooming  together. 

It  poured,  so  I  sat  some  time  with  R.  on  one  of  the 
seats.  He  talked  long  and  openly  of  all  the  tempta- 
tions of  his  life,  and  endlessly  about  himself.  I  urged 
that  the  best  way  of  ennobling  his  own  nature  must 
be  through  others,  that  self-introspection  would  never 
do,  and  could  only  lead  to  egotism  and  selfishness,  but 
that  in  trying  to  help  others  he  would  unconsciously 
help  himself.  I  find  it  most  difficult  to  say  anything 
of  this  kind  without  making  illustrations  out  of  my  own 
life,  which  I  have  certainly  no  right  to  think  exemplary. 

As  we  were  going  away,  a  lady  who  had  stared 
long  and  hard  at  us,  and  whom  I  thought  to  be  some 
waif  turned  up  from  my  Roman  lectures,  came  up  to 
me.  *  I  think,  sir,  that  you  were  standing  close  to  my 
sister  just  now,  and  she  has  lost  her  purse. ^ — ^  I  am 
very  sorry  your  sister  has  lost  her  purse  ;  it  is  very 
unfortunate.' — 'Yes,  but  my  sister  has  lost  her  purse, 
and  yoMy  yo2t  were  standing  by  her  when  she  lost  it.' — 
'  I  think  after  what  you  have  said  I  had  better  give  you 
my  card.' — ^  Oh,  no,  no,  no.' — ^  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes  :  after 
what  you  have  said  I  must  insist  upon  giving  you  my 
card.'  What  an  odd  experience,  to  be  taken  for  a 
pickpocket !  R.  thought  the  lady  had  really  picked 
my  pocket,  but  she  had  not." 

Jan.  22. — An  anonymous  letter  of  apology  from 
the  lady  of  the  picked  pocket ;  only  she  said  that  if 
I  had  been  as  flurried  as  she  was,  and  had  been  placed 


LONDON   WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


359 


in  the  same  circumstances  as  she  was,  I  should  have 
acted  exactly  as  she  did  ;  in  which  I  do  not  quite  agree 
with  her/' 

Monk's  Orchard^  Jan,  23. — This  is  a  fine  big 
house,  be-pictured,  be-statued,  with  a  terraced  garden, 
a  lake,  and  a  great  flat  park.  A  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rodd 
are  here  with  their  son  Rennell,  a  pleasant-looking  boy, 
wonderfully  precocious  and  clever,  though,  as  every 
one  listens  to  him,  he  has — not  unnaturally — a  very 
good  opinion  of  himself :  still  one  feels  at  once  that  he 
is  the  sort  of  boy  who  will  be  heard  of  again  some  day. 

Our  host,  Mr.  Lewis  Loyd,  is  in  some  ways  one 
of  the  most  absent  men  in  the  world.  One  day, 
meeting  a  friend,  he  said,  '  Hallo  !  what  a  long  time 
it  is  since  I've  seen  you  !  How's  your  father  ?  ' — ^  Oh, 
my  father's  dead.' — ^  God  bless  me  !  I'm  very  sorry,'  &c. 
The  next  year  he  met  the  same  man  again,  and  had 
forgotten  all  about  it,  so  began  with,  '  Hallo  !  what  a 
long  time  since  I've  seen  you  !  How's  your  father  ?  ' — 
^  Oh,  my  father's  dead  still  I ' 

We  have  been  to  church  at  Shirley — one  of  Scott's 
new  country  churches.  In  the  churchyard  is  a  cross 
to  poor  Sir  John  Anson,  and  beside  it  a  granite 
altar-tomb  with  an  inscription  saying  that  it  is  to 
Ruskin's  father — ^a  perfectly  honest  merchant/  and 
that  ^  his  son,  whom  he  loved  to  the  uttermost,  and 
taught  to  speak  the  truth,  says  this.' 

69  Onslozv  Square^  Jan,  28. — A  long  visit  to  F. 
and  S.  It  is  quite  a  new  phase  of  life  to  me.  They 
are  perfect  gentlemen,  at  least  in  heart,  and  one  cannot 


36o 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


be  with  them  long  without  seeing  a  kindly,  chivalrous 
nature,  which  comes  to  the  surface  in  a  thousand  little 
nothings.  Yet  they  are  what  the  world  frowns  upon — 
beginning  to  seek  fortune  on  the  stage,  neglected  or 
rejected  by  unsympathetic  relations,  living  from  hand 
to  mouth,  furnishing  their  rooms  by  pawning  their 
rings  and  watches,  &c.  S.  in  terrible  illness,  totally 
penniless,  ignored  by  every  one,  is  taken  in,  nursed, 
doctored,  and  paid  for  by  F.,  upon  whom  he  has  no 
claim  whatever.  F.,  abused,  snubbed,  and  without  any 
natural  charm  in  himself,  is  henceforth  loved,  defended, 
regarded  with  the  most  loyal  devotion,  by  his  more 
popular  companion. 

I  dined  on  the  26th  with  Lady  E.  Adeane.  Mr. 
Percy  Doyle  was  very  amusing.  Talking  of  the 
anxiety  of  ministers  in  America  to  change  their  posts, 
he  said,  '  If  my  father  had  bequeathed  to  me  Hell 
and  Texas,  I  should  have  lived  in  Hell  and  let  Texas.* 

Yesterday  I  went  to  luncheon  with  the  Vaughans 
at  the  Temple,  and  met  there  Miss  Rye,  who  has  a 
home  for  homeless  children  at  Clapham,  and  takes 
them  off  by  batches  to  America,  to  establish  them 
there  as  servants,  &c.  She  produced  from  her  pocket 
about  a  hundred  cartes-de-visite  of  the  children,  wild, 
unkempt,  and  wicked-looking,  and  of  the  same  children 
after  they  had  been  under  cultivation.  Certainly  the 
change  was  marvellous,  but  then  she  had  employed  a 
good  photographer  for  the  redeemed  children  and  a 
very  bad  one  for  the  little  ruffians." 

Feb.  5. — Dined  at  Lady  Sarah  Lindsay's.  Sir 
Robert  Philliniore  was  there,  whom  I  had  not  seen 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


361 


since  I  was  a  child.  He  is  most  agreeable  and  has 
a  noble  nature.  There  was  a  young  man  there,  a 
Bridgeman,  just  entering  the  law,  and  I  thought  the 
picture  quite  beautiful  which  Sir  Robert  drew  without 
effort  for  his  encouragement,  of  all  that  the  profession 


FOUNTAIN  COURT,  TEMPLE.  1 


of  the  law  might  become  and  be  made  by  any  one  who 
really  took  to  it, — of  all  the  great  aims  to  be  fulfilled, 
of  all  the  ways  of  making  it  useful  to  others  and  ennob- 
ling to  one's  own  nature.  I  felt  so  much  all  that  I  should 
have  felt  that  sort  of  encouragement,  drawn  from  prac- 
tical experience,  would  have  been  to  myself." 

1  From  "Walks  in  London." 


362 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


Feb.  8. — The  opening  oi  Parliament.  I  went  to 
Lord  Overstone's.  At  a  quarter  to  two  the  proces- 
sion passed  beneath — the  fine  old  carriages  and  gor- 
geous footmen,  one  stream  of  gold  and  red,  pouring 
through  the  black  crowd  and  leafless  trees.  We  all 
counted  the  carriages  differently — eight,  twelve,  fifteen  ; 
and  there  were  only  six !  All  one  saw  of  royalty 
was  the  waving  of  a  white  cap-string,  as  the  Queen, 
sitting  well  back  in  the  carriage,  bowed  to  the  people." 

Feb.  13. — Dined  at  the  Dowager  Lady  Barrington's 
— the  great  topic  being  dinner  past,  present,  and  pro- 
spective. George,  Lord  Harrington,  said  that  he  had 
dined  at  the  Brazilian  Minister's,  and  he  was  sure  the 
cookery  was  good  and  also  the  wine,  for  he  had  eaten 
of  every  dish  and  drunk  fourteen  kinds  of  wine,  and 
had  passed  a  perfectly  good  night  and  been  quite  well 
the  next  morning.  He  also  dined  with  Mr.  Brand 
the  Speaker,  and  complimented  Mrs.  Brand  upon  the 
dinner.  She  told  her  cook.  He  said,  ^  We  are  three, 
Lord  Granville's,  Mr.  Russell  Sturgis's,  and  myself ; 
there  are  only  three  cooks  in  London.'  When  Lord 
Barrington  afterwards  saw  Mrs.  Brand,  she  told  him 
the  cook  had  asked  who  had  praised  him,  and  '  when 
he  heard,*  continued  Mrs.  Brand,  '  he  also  gave  you  his 
little  meed  ot  praise.*  ^Ah,  M.  Barrington,*  he  said, 
'  c'est  une  bonne  fourchette.*  He  had  been  at  Kinmel, 
but  said  he  had  ^  dismissed  Mr.  Hughes.' " 

Feb.  14. — Dined  at  Lord  Halifax's  to  meet  Lord 
and  Lady  Cardwell.  They  are  most  pleasant,  interest- 
ing, interested  company,  and  it  was  altogether  one  of 


i876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


the  happiest  dinners  I  remember.  The  conversation 
was  chiefly  about  the  changes  in  spelhng  and  their 
connection  with  changes  in  Enghsh  history  and 
customs. 

Lord  Card  well  was  in  the  habit  of  using  the 
Church  prayers  at  family  prayers.  One  day  his  valet 
came  to  him  and  said,  must  leave  your  lordship^s 
service  at  once.' — 'Why,  what  have  you  to  complain 
of?'  —  'Nothing  personally,  but  your  lordship  zi)ill 
repeat  every  morning — ''  We  have  done  those  things 
which  we  ought  not  to  have  done,  and  have  left  undone 
those  things  which  we  ought  to  have  done  : " — now  I 
freely  admit  that  I  have  often  done  things  I  ought  not, 
but  that  I  have  left  undone  things  that  I  ought  to  have 
done,  I  utterly  deny :  and  I  will  not  stay  here  to  hear 
it  said.'" 

Feb.  ig. — A.  charming  walk  with  Charlie  Wood  to 
St.  Paul's,  along  the  Embankment  and  then  a  labyrinth 
of  quaint  City  streets.  He  called  it  his  half-holiday, 
and  I  am  sure  it  was  so  to  me  to  mount  into  his  pure 
unworldly  atmosphere  even  for  two  hours.  He  is 
really  the  only  young  man  I  know  who  at  once  thinks 
no  evil,  believes  no  evil,  and  does  no  evil." 

''  Stmdayj  Feb.  20. — Luncheon  with  Mrs.  Harvey  of 
Ickwellbury,  meeting  Colonel  Taylor,  the  Whip  of  the 
House  of  Commons — a  very  amusing  man.  He  talked 
a  great  deal  about  Ireland.  He  said  that  when  he 
congratulated  Why te- Melville  upon  the  engagement  of 
his  daughter  to  Lord  Massereene,  he  said,  'Yes,  I  have 
every  reason  to  be  satisfied  :  first,  my  future  son-in-law 


THE    STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1876 

is  an  Irishman,  and  then  he  speaks  his  native  tongue  in 
all  its  purity.* 

'^He  spoke  of  landing  in  former  days  at  Kingstown, 
how    the  car-drivers    fought    for  you,  and,  having 


IN  FRONT  OF  ST.  PAUL'S. ^ 


obtained  you,  possessed  you,  and  made  all  out  of  you 
that  they  could.  Passing  a  mile-post  with  G.  P.  O. 
upon  it,  the  'fare'  asked  its  meaning.  'Why,  your 
honour/  said  the  driver,  '  it's  aizy  to  see  that  your 
honour  has  never  been  in  ould  Ireland  before — why, 
that's  just  God  preserve  O'Connell,  your  honour,  and 

1  From     Walks  in  London." 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


it's  on  ivery  mile-post  all  through  the  country.'  It 
was  of  course  '  General  Post  Office/ 

Coming  to  a  river,  the  ^  fare '  asked,  *  What  do  you 
call  this  river  ?  * — '  It's  not  a  river  at  all,  your  honour  ; 
it's  only  a  stranie/ — ^  Well,  but  what  do  you  call  it  ?  ' — 
^  Oh,  we  don't  call  it  at  all,  your  honour;  it  just  comes 
of  itself" 

Fed.  24. — Dined  at  Lord  Strathmore's,  and  went 
on  with  Hedworth  and  Lizzie  Williamson  to  Lady 
Bloomfield's,  where  sixty-eight  cousins  assembled  to 
take  leave  of  Lord  and  Lady  Lytton  on  their  departure 
for  India." 

If  any  one  has  ever  the  patience  to  read  this 
memoir  through,  they  will  have  been  struck  by 
the  way  in  which,  for  many  years  before  the 
time  I  am  writing  of,  the  persons  with  whom 
I  lived  were  quite  different  from  those  amongst 
whom  my  childhood  was  spent.  Arthur  Stan- 
ley had  never  got  over  the  publication  of  the 

Memorials  of  a  Quiet  Life,"  though  he  was 
always  at  a  loss  to  say  what  he  objected 
to  in  it,  and  Mary  Stanley  I  never  saw  at  all. 
From  Lady  Augusta  alone  I  continued  to  re- 
ceive frequent  and  affectionate  messages. 

In  1874  Lady  Augusta  represented  the 
Queen  at  the  marriage  of  the  Duke  of  Edin- 
burgh, and  she  never  really  recovered  the 
effects  of  the  cold  which  she  then  endured 


366  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

in  Russia.  In  the  summer  of  1875  she  was 
alarmingly  ill  in  Paris,  was  brought  home  with 
difficulty,  and  from  that  time  there  was  little 
hope  of  her  recovery.  She  expired  early  in 
March  1876.  I  had  not  seen  her  for  long,  but 
had  always  a  most  affectionate  recollection  of 
her,  and  the  last  letter  she  was  able  to  dictate 
was  addressed  to  me. 

Journal. 

Holnthurst,  March  12. — I  have  been  again  up  to 
London  for  dear  Augusta  Stanley's  funeral  on  the  9th. 
It  was  a  beautiful  day.  All  the  approaches  to  West- 
minster were  filled  with  people  in  mourning. 

It  seemed  most  strange  thus  to  go  to  the  Deanery 
again — that  the  doors  closed  for  six  years  were  opened 
wide  by  death,  by  the  death  of  one  who  had  always 
remained  my  friend,  and  whom  no  efforts  of  others 
could  alienate.  Red  cloth  showed  that  royalty  was 
coming,  and  I  went  at  once  to  the  library,  where  an 
immense  crowd  of  cousins  were  assembled.  As  I 
went  down  the  little  staircase  with  Kate  Vaughan, 
four  ladies  in  deep  mourning  passed  to  the  dining- 
room,  carrying  immense  wreaths  of  lovely  white 
flowers :  they  were  the  Queen  and  three  of  her 
daughters.  The  Queen  seemed  in  a  perfect  anguish 
of  grief.  She  remained  for  a  short  time  alone  with 
the  coffin,  I  believe  knelt  by  it,  and  was  then  taken 
to  the  gallery  overhanging  the.Abbey. 

^^Soon  the  immense   procession   set   out  by  the 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  367 

cloisters,  and  on  entering  the  church,  turned  so  as  to 
pass  beneath  the  Queen  and  then  up  the  nave  from 
the  west  end.  The  church  was  full  of  people  :  I  felt 
as  if  I  only  saw  the  wind  lifting  the  long  garlands 
of  white  flowers  as  the  coffin  moved  slowly  on,  and 
Arthur's  pathetic  face  of  childlike  bewilderment.  The 
music  was  lovely,  but  in  that  vast  choir  one  longed 
for  a  village  service.  It  was  not  so  in  the  second  part, 
when  we  moved  through  one  long  sob  from  the  poor 
of  Westminster  who  lined  the  way,  to  the  little  chapel 
behind  the  tomb  of  Henry  VII.,  where  the  service  was 
indescribably  simple  and  touching. 

^^The  procession  of  mourners  went  round  the  Abbey 
from  the  choir  by  a  longer  way  to  the  chapel  on 
account  of  the  people.  As  it  passed  the  corner  of  the 
transept,  the  strange  little  figure  of  Mr.  Carlyle  slipped 
out.  He  had  been  very  fond  of  Augusta,  was  full  of 
feeling  for  Arthur,  and  seemed  quite  unconscious  of 
who  and  where  he  was.  He  ran  along,  before  the 
chief  mourners,  by  the  side  of  the  coffin,  and  in  the 
chapel  itself  he  stood  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  making 
the  strangest  ejaculations  at  intervals  through  the 
service. 

Arthur  stood  at  the  head  of  the  grave  with 
his  hands  on  the  heads  of  Thomas  Bruce's 
two  children.  When  the  last  flowers  fell  into 
the  grave,  a  single  voice  sang  gloriously, 
Write,  saith  the  Spirit."  Then  we  moved 
back  again  to  the  nave,  and,  standing  at  the 
end,  in  a  voice  of  most  majestic  pathos,  quiver- 


368  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1876 

> 

ing,  yet  audible  through  all  that  vast  space, 
Arthur  himself  gave  the  blessing.  ''The 
Queen  was  waiting  for  him  upon  the  threshold 
as  he  went  into  the  house,  and  led  him  her- 
self into  his  desolate  home." 

I  insert  some  poor  lines  which  I  wrote  ''In 
Memoriam." 

"Lately  together  in  a  common  grief 

Our  Royal  mistress  with  her  people  wept, 
And  reverently  were  fairest  garlands  laid 

Where  our  beloved  one  from  her  sufferings  slept. 

Seeing  the  sunshine  through  a  mist  of  tears 
Fall  on  the  bier  of  her  we  loved  so  well, 

Each,  in  the  memory  sweet  of  happy  years, 

Some  kindly  word  or  kindlier  thought  could  tell. 

And  tenderly,  with  sorrow-trembling  voice. 
All  sought  their  comfort  in  a  meed  of  love, 

Unworthy  echoes  from  each  saddened  heart 
Seeking  their  share  in  the  great  loss  to  prove. 

For  she  so  lately  gathered  into  rest 

Was  one  who  smoothed  this  stony  path  of  ours, 

And  beating  down  the  thorns  along  the  way, 

Aye  left  it  strewn  and  sweet  with  summer  flowers. 

In  the  true  candour  of  a  noble  heart, 

She  never  sought  another's  fault  to  show, 

But  rather  thought  there  must  be  in  herself 
Some  secret  failure  which  she  did  not  know. 


1876]  LONDON   WALKS   AND  SOCIETY  369 

While  if  all  praised  and  honoured,  she  herself 
Meekly  received  it  with  a  sweet  surprise, 

Seeking  henceforth  to  be  what  now  slie  deemed 
Was  but  a  phantasy  in  loving  eyes. 

When  the  fair  sunshine  of  her  happy  home 

Tuned  her  whole  heart  and  all  her  life  to  praise, 

She  ever  tried  to  cheer  some  gloomier  lot, 
From  the  abounding  brightness  of  its  ways. 

And  many  a  weary  sufferer  blest  the  hand 

Which  knew  so  well  a  healing  balm  to  pour ; 

While  hungry  voices  never  were  denied 

By  her,  who  kept,  as  steward,  a  poor  man's  store. 

Thus  when,  from  all  the  labour  of  her  love, 

She  passed  so  sadly  to  a  bed  of  pain, 
And  when  from  tongue  to  tongue  the  story  went. 

That  none  would  see  the  honoured  face  again  : 

It  was  a  personal  grief  to  thousand  hearts 
Outside  the  sphere  in  which  her  lot  was  cast. 

And  tens  of  thousands  sought  to  have  a  share 
In  loving  honour  paid  her  at  the  last. 

E'en  death  is  powerless  o'er  a  life  -like  hers. 
Its  radiance  lingers,  though  its  sun  has  set ; 

Rich  and  unstinted  was  the  seed  she  sowed. 
The  golden  harvest  is  not  gathered  yet." 

Journal. 

''March  25. — A  'Spelling  Bee'  at  Mrs.  Dundas's. 
I  was  plucked  as  I  entered  the  room  over  the  word 
Camelopard. 

VOL.  IV.  2  A 


370 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


Dined  at  the  Tower  of  London  with  Everard  Prim- 
rose ;  only  young  Lord  Mayo  there.  At  1 1  P.M.  the  old 
ceremony  of  relieving  guard  took  place.  I  stood  with 
Everard  and  a  file  of  soldiers  on  a  little  raised  terrace. 
A  figure  with  a  lanthorn  emerged  from  a  dark  hole. 

^  Who  goes  there  ?  *  shouted  the  soldiers. 

'  The  Queen.' 
'^'What  Queen?' 

'  Queen  Victoria.' 

^  And  whose  keys  are  those  ?  ' 

'  Queen  Victoria's  keys.' 

Upon  which  the  figure,  advancing  into  the  broad 
moonlight,  said  '  God  bless  Queen  Victoria !  '  and 
all  the  soldiers  shouted  '  Amen '  and  dispersed." 

March  2?>. — My  lecture  on  ^The  Strand  and  the 
Inns  of  Court'  took  place  in  41  Seymour  Street. 
I  felt  at  Tyburn  till  I  began,  and  then  got  on  pretty 
well.  There  was  a  very  large  attendance.  I  was  very 
much  alarmed  at  the  whole  party,  but  had  an  individual 
dread  of  Lord  Houghton,  though  I  was  soon  relieved 
by  seeing  that  he  was  fast  asleep,  and  remained  so 
all  the  time." 

April  4. — My  lecture  on  Aldersgate,  &c.  Dinner 
at  the  Miss  Duff  Gordons,  meeting  the  Tom  Taylors.^ 
He  talks  incessantly." 

April  6. — Dined  with  Lady  Sarah  Lindsay,  where 
I  was  delighted  at  last  to  meet  Mrs.  Greville.^  She 
recited  in  the  evening,  sitting  down  very  quietly  on 

1  Tom  Taylor,  editor  of  Punch,  died  1880. 
2  Nee  Sabine  Thelliisson. 


1876]  LONDON   WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  37  I 

the  sofa  with  her  feet  on  a  stool.  Her  voice  is  absorb- 
ing, and  in  her  ^  Queen  of  the  May'  each  hne  seems  to 
catch  up  a  fresh  echo  of  pathos  from  the  last." 

''April  7.  —  Dined  at  Sir  Stafford  Northcote's.i 
Mrs.  Dudley  Ryder  was  there,  who  told  me  she  had 
paralysis  of  the  throat,  yet  sang  splendidly.  Sir 
Stafford  told  a  capital  story  in  French  in  the  evening, 
something  like  that  which  I  tell  in  Italian  about  the 
Duke  of  Torlonia." 

''April  14. — Dined  at  the  Shaw-Lefevres\  Dear 
Sir  John  talked  much,  when  we  were  alone,  of  the 
great  mercies  and  blessings  of  his  life^ — how  entirely 
he  could  now  say  with  Horne  Tooke,  '  I  am  both  con- 
tent and  thankful.'  He  described  his  life  —  his  fre- 
quent qualms  at  having  sacrificed  a  certain  position 
at  the  bar  to  an  uncertain  post  under  Government : 
then  how  the  Governorship  of  Ceylon  was  offered  to 
him,  and  how  he  longed  to  take  it,  but  did  not,  though 
it  was  of  all  things  what  he  would  have  liked,  because 
an  instant  answer  was  demanded,  and  he  could  not  at 
once  find  any  means  of  providing  for  the  children  he 
could  not  take  with  him  :  how  through  all  the  year 
afterwards  he  was  very  miserable  and  could  apply  to 
nothing,  it  was  such  a  very  severe  disappointment ; 
and  then  how  he  was  persuaded  to  stand  for  Cam- 
bridge, and  how,  though  he  did  not  get  in,  the  effort 
served  its  purpose  in  diverting  his  thoughts.  Even- 
tually the  place  in  the  House  of  Lords  was  offered,  in 
which  he  worked  for  so  many  years. 

^  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 


372 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


Sir  John  spoke  most  touchingly  of  his  boy's  death. 
'We  had  another  Httle  boy  once,  you  did  not  know 
perhaps.  It  died.  It  was  the  dearest,  most  engaging 
child.  When  it  died  it  took  the  shine  out  of  life.' 
Then  he  dwelt  on  the  law  of  compensations,  how  the 


CHAPEL  AND  GATEWAY,  LINCOLN'S  INN. 


anxiety  for  his  eldest  girl  Rachel,  so  very  ill,  '  brought 
in  on  a  cushion,  and  suffering  so  much,  poor  thing,' 
diverted  his  thoughts  from  the  great  loss.  In  his  old 
age  he  said,  'And  now  at  eighty  all  is  blessing — all 
.  .  .  .  but  it  is  difficult  to  remember  how  old  one  is. 
The  chief  sign  of  age  I  feel  is  the  inabihty  to  apply  regu- 

From     Walks  in  London." 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  373 

larly  to  work,  the  having  no  desire  to  begin  anything 
new/  One  could  not  but  feel  as  if  it  was  Sir  Thomas 
More  who  was  speaking,  so  beautiful  his  spirit  of 
blessed  contentment,  so  perfect  the  trust  and  repose  of 
his  gentle  waiting  for  what  the  future  might  bring." 

HolniJmrst^  April  30.  —  Lea  has  been  in  saying, 
'  It's  May  Day  to-morrow,  the  day  to  turn  the  cows 


STAPLE  INN,  HOLBORN.l 

out  to  grass.  The  poor  things  must  have  a  bit  of  a 
treat  then,  you  know;  they  always  have  done.  But 
there's  not  the  good  clover  now-a-days  there  used  to 
be.  Eh  !  what  a  fuss  there  used  to  be,  to  be  sure, 
putting  the  cows  out  in  the  clover ;  and  we  used  to 
watch  that  they  did  not  eat  too  much,  and  to  see  that 

^  From  *' Walks  in  London." 


374  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE  [1876 

they  did  not  swell ;  if  they  did,  they  had  to  be  pricked, 
or  they'd  have  burst.  And  then  next  day  there  was 
the  making  of  the  first  May  cheese.  .  .  .  Old  John 
Pearce  at  Lime  used  to  take  wonderful  care  of  Mr. 
Taylor's  oxen,  and  proud  enough  he  used  to  be  of 
them.  Well,  you  give  them  plenty  to  eat,  John,"  I 
used  to  say.  Yes,  that's  just  about  it.  Miss  Lea,"  he 
said ;  I  do  put  it  into  them  right  down  spitefully,  that 
I  do."  ' 

Here  are  some  more  of  her  sayings  : — 
'  Here's  a  pretty  how-d'ye-do  !  It's  the  master 
finding  fault ! — it's  one  day  one  thing  and  one  another. 
Old  bachelors  and  old  maids  are  all  alike.  They  don't 
know  what  they  want,  they  don't;  but  /  know:  the 
old  maids  want  husbands,  and  the  old  bachelors  want 
wives,  that's  what  they  want.' 

'  It's  the  mischief  of  the  farming  now-a-days  that 
the  farmers  always  say  '  Go.'  .  .  .  My  father  used  to 
say  a  farmer  never  ought  to  say  ^  Go ; '  if  he  did,  the 
work  was  sure  to  be  neglected :  a  farmer  should 
always  say  ^  Come,  lads,'  and  then  the  work  would  be 
done.' 

^  It's  hailing  is  it  ?  then  there'll  be  frost,  for 

"  Hail,  hail, 
Brings  frost  at  its  tail !  " 

as  the  saying  is.' 

'  Why,  girl,  the  moon's  waning.  I  would  never 
kill  a  pig  when  the  moon's  on  the  w^ane.  Why,  it  would 
not  break  out ;  it  would  shrivel  up.  No,  you  must  kill 
a  pig  with  the  new  moon.  I  daresay  folks  laugh  at  me, 
but  I  know  what's  what.' 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  3/5 

^  How  you  do  make  him  (a  sick  young  man) 
laugh  ! 

^^'Well,  and  there's  nothing  does  him  so  much 
good.  He'd  mope,  mope,  mope,  and  that's  nothing. 
It  makes  him  fat,  Hke  babies.  Boys  must  laugh,  or 
they  won't  get  fat.  Girls  may  cry :  it  always  does 
them  good :  it  stretches  their  muscles  and  such  like : 
but  boys  mustn't  cry ;  it's  bad  for  them :  that's  how  the 
old  saying  goes.' 

'  How  do  you  like  them  ? 

'  Eh  !  how  do  I  know  ?  We  must  summer  'em  and 
winter  'em  afore  we  can  tell,  must'na  we,  wench :  aye, 
and  a  good  many  summers  and  winters  it  must  be  too, 
and  then  they  may  deceive  ye.  I  have'na  lived  more 
than  twenty  years  over  half  a  century,  but  I've  found 
that  out.' 

^  I  have'na  heard  the  cuckoo  this  spring.  I  don't 
know  what's  come  over  the  things.  Heathfield  fair  is 
over  ever  so  long,  and  The  old  woman  lets  the  cuckoo 
out  of  her  basket  at  Heathfield  fair,"  that's  the  old 
saying.' " 

May  6. — In  London  again,  which  is  full  of  interest 
as  ever,  and  now  especially  beautiful  from  its  trees  just 
bursting  into  leaf  with  indescribable  wealth  of  lovely 
young  green.  It  is  certainly  a  most  delightful  time. 
People  think  I  ought  to  feel  dreadfully  depressed  by  a 
most  spiteful  paragraph  upon  '  Cities  of  Italy '  in  the 
Saturday  J  and  a  more  spiteful  review  in  Athencenm^ 
but  I  do  not  a  bit :  they  are  most  disagreeable  doses  to 
take,  but  I  believe  they  are  most  wholesome  medicine 
for  one's  morals  and  capital  teachers  of  humility." 


376 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


May  7. — An  amusing  tea  at  the  Duchess  of  Cleve- 
land's— young  Lord  Stanhope  and  Mr.  Bourke  there. 
The  Duchess  talked  of  Pimlico,  the  bought  property  of 
Lord  Grosvenor,  formerly  called  ^  The  Five  Fields.' 
The  Court  wished  to  buy  it  because  it  was  so  close  to 
Buckingham  Palace,  but  thought  the  sum  asked  was 
too  much.  Lord  Grosvenor  gave  ;£'30,ooo  for  it.  Lord 
Cowper  had  wished  to  buy  it,  and  sent  his  agent  for 
the  purpose,  but  he  came  back  without  having  done  so, 
and  when  Lord  Cowper  upbraided  him,  said,  ^  Really, 
my  lord,  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  give  £200 
more  for  it  than  it  was  worth.'  Cubitt  afterwards 
offered  a  ground-rent  of  iJ^6o,000." 

May  8. — Dined  with  Mrs.  Thellusson  to  meet  Lady 
Waterford.  Whistler  the  artist  was  there.  He  has  a 
milk-white  tuft  growing  out  of  his  black  hair,  a  pecu- 
liarity which  he  declares  to  be  hereditary  in  his  family, 
as  in  that  of  the  Caetani." 

May  10. — I  was  'at  home  ^  in  the  morning  to  a 
sketching-party  in  Bunhill  Fields  Cemetery.  It  was 
very  sunny  there  and  very  quiet,  till  the  Militia  and  a 
troop  of  attendant  boys  found  us  out.  One  of  the 
latter  stole  my  umbrella,  but  I  pursued  him  and  cap- 
tured it  again  as  he  passed  through  the  gate. 

A  very  pleasant  gathering  in  the  afternoon  in  the 
beautiful  new  room  of  Lowther  Lodge,  where  the 
great  characteristics  are  the  white  Queen  Anne  chim- 
ney-pieces, and  the  vast  space  of  floors,  not  parquetted, 
but  of  closely  fitted  oak  boards.  Dined  at  the  Peases' 
to  meet  Woolner  the  sculptor,  &c." 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  377 

May  II. — A  lovely  day.  My  ^Excursion'  to  the 
Tower.  Forty-six  people  met  me  there.  All  the 
curious  chambers  and  vaults  were  open  to  us  in  turn. 
In  the  White  Tower  we  saw  the  prisons  of  Little  Ease. 
1  had  given  my  little  explanation  and  returned  into 
the  sunshine  with  the  greater  number  of  the  party, 


JOHN  BUNYAN'S  tomb,  BUNHILL  FIELDS.  1 


when  Mrs.  Maxwell  Lyte,  who  had  arrived  late,  went 
in.  Being  told  that  the  cell  of  Sir  Thomas  More  was 
to  be  seen,  and  seeing  a  railing  by  the  flickering 
torchlight,  she  thought  that  marked  the  place,  and  went 
underneath  it,  and  stepped  out  into — nothing !  With 
a  piercing  shriek  she  fell  into  a  black  abyss  by  a  pre- 

1  From  "Walks  in  London." 


378 


THE   STORY    OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


cipice  of  fourteen  feet.  Every  one  thought  she  was 
killed,  but  after  a  minute  her  voice  came  out  of  the 
depths — ^  I  am  not  seriously  hurt/  It  was  a  tremen- 
dous relief. 

^'We  went  on  to  the  Queens  Head  Restaurant, 


traitor's  gate,  tower  of  LONDON.l 


Emily  Lefevre  and  I  running  before  to  order  luncheon. 
When  we  arrived,  we  found  volleys  of  smoke  issuing 
from  the  house  and  the  kitchen-chimney  on  fire.  How- 
ever, we  waited,  the  party  bore  the  smell,  and  eventually 
we  had  our  luncheon.    Tom  Brassey  wanted  to  order 

1  From    Walks  in  London." 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  379 

wine,  &c.,  but  Emily  stopped  him  with,  *  Remember, 
Mr.  Brassey,  we  are  hmited  to  fourpence  a  head/ 

The  Prince  of  Wales  arrived  (from  India)  at  7  P.M. 
I  waited  two  hours  at  the  Spottiswoodes'  house  in 
Grosvenor  Place  to  see  him,  and  saw  nothing  but  the 
flash  of  light  on  his  bald  head.  It  was  a  pleasant 
party,  but  how  seldom  in  London  society  does  one 
hear  anything  one  can  carry  away.  Most  people  are 
like  those  Mme.  du  Defifand  describes — Mes  machines 
a  ressort  qui  vont,  viennent,  parlent,  vivent,  sans 
penser,  sans  refiechir,  sans  sentir,  chacun  jouant  son 
role  par  habitude.^'' 

May  12.  —  Trouble  with  Murray  the  publisher, 
who  insists  on  believing  that  because  some  points  in 
my  ^  Cities  of  Italy '  resemble  his  Handbooks,  they 
must  be  taken  from  them,  which  they  most  assuredly 
are  not.  I  had  no  Handbooks  with  me  when  I  was 
writing,  but  where  there  is  only  one  thing  to  say  about 
places,  two  people  sometimes  say  it." 

May  13. — A  delightful  morning,  drawing  in  the 
Savoy  Churchyard." 

May  15. — Drawing-party  in  dirty,  picturesque  St. 
Bartholomew's.  For  the  first  time  this  year  no  one 
asked  me  to  dinner,  and  I  was  most  profoundly 
bored." 

May  16. — Dined  at  Sir  Charles  Trevelyan's.  Old 
Lord  Hatherley  was  very  interesting.  He  said  much 
that  was  curious  about  the  Milton  houses  in  the  City, 


380  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

and  how  as  a  boy  he  used  to  go  to  study  at  the 
Williams  Library  in  Redcross  Street :  how  Lady 
Hatherley  had  property  in  the  City,  in  an  ancient 
conveyance  of  which  there  was  a  signature  of  Shak- 
speare.    I  never  saw  people  whose  every  word  breathed 


THE  SAVOY  CHURCHYARD.  1 


more  of  old-fashioned  goodness  than  Lord  and  Lady 
Hatherley.'' 

May  17. — A  sketching-party  in  the  City.  The 
going  thither  down  the  river,  with  its  varieties  of  huge 
barges  with  their  sails,  quite  as  striking  as  many 
things  abroad.    In  the  great  Church  of  St.  Mary  Overy 


^  From  ^' Walks  in  London." 


1876]  LONDON   WALKS    AND    SOCIETY  38  I 

we  drew  the  wonderful  figures  of  the  'Sisters' — 
sleeping  deeply  with  their  rakes  and  prongs  over  their 
shoulders  while  waiting  for  the  great  final  harvest." 


RAHERE'S  tomb,  ST.   BARTHOLOMEW'S,  SMITHFIELD.l 


May  26. — Dined  at  Lord  Ducie's.  Lord  Henry 
Scott  talked  of  his  place  on  the  Solent,  and  his  diffe- 
rent rights  to  flotsam,  jetsam,  and  lagam  :  that  it  never 

^  From  "  Walks  in  London." 


382 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


arrived  at  the  third  ;  that  the  second  had  only  brought 
him  two  dead  sailors  to  bury." 

May  27. — Dined  at  Lord  Egerton  of  Tatton*s. 
Old  General  Doyle  was  very  amusing  with  his  stories 


of  duels  in  which  he  had  a  personal  share.  He  also 
told  of  his  visit  to  Ireland  as  a  young  man  with  the 
present  Lord  Enniskillen  as  Lord  Cole.  At  the  first 
house  they  went  to,  his  friend  escaped  after  dinner,  but 
he  had  not  time.  The  host  locked  the  door,  and  they 
began  to  drink  at  seven,  and  went  on  to  eleven.  At 

^  From     Walks  in  London." 


1876] 


LONDON   WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


eleven  his  host  fell  under  the  table,  and  he  then  picked 
his  pocket  of  the  key  and  got  out.  The  next  day  his 
host  seriously  consulted  Lord  Cole  as  to  whether  it 
was  not  his  duty  to  call  him  out,  because  he  would  not 
stay  for  another  drinking  bout. 

He  told  the  story  of  a  man  in  France,  condemned 
to  death  for  the  murder  of  his  father  and  mother,  who, 
when  asked  if  he  could  give  any  reason  why  he  should 
not  undergo  the  extreme  penalty  of  the  law,  clasped 
his  hands,  and  said,  'Ayezpitie  d'un  pauvre  orphelin.'  " 

*^  May  31. — An  evening  party  at  Lord  Houghton's, 
an  omnium-gatherum,  but  very  amusing.  It  recalled 
Carlyle's  speech,  who,  when  some  ecclesiastic  gloomily 
inquired  in  his  presence  ^  What  would  happen  if  Jesus 
Christ  returned  to  earth  now  ? '  retorted — '  Happen  ! 
why  Dickie  Milnes  would  ask  him  to  dinner,  to  be 
sure,  and  would  ask  Pontius  Pilate  to  meet  him.' 

It  took  half-an-hour  to  get  up  the  staircase.  Miss 
Rhoda  Broughton  was  there,  beautifully  dressed, 
pressed  upon  by  bishops  and  clergy :  Salvini  and 
Irving  were  affectionately  greeting:  Lady  Stanley 
of  Alderley,  under  a  perfect  stack  of  diamonds,  was 
declaiming  very  loud  in  her  unknown  tongue  to  an 
astonished  and  bewildered  audience;  and  through 
all  the  groups  upstairs  the  young  King  of  the  Belgians 
was  smiling  and  bowing  a  retreat  to  his  escape  by 
a  back-staircase." 

June  6. — Left  London  for  Devonshire,  struck  more 
than  usual  with  the  interest  of  the  Great  Western 
Railway,  which  has  no  exceptional  beauty,  but  most 


384  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1876 

characteristic  changes  of  scenery,  even  the  botany 
along  the  banks  showing  in  its  different  plants  the 
varied  conformations  of  the  soil. 

First,  close  to  London,  the  endless  brick-kilns,  and 
the  last  streets  stretching  out  into  the  blackened  fields 
like  fingers  of  a  skeleton  hand.  Then  across  the  green 
meadows,  all  intersected  by  elms,  branchless  and 
tufted  like  great  brooms,  the  grey  coronal  of  Windsor. 
Then  the  red  houses  and  pretentious  prison  of  Read- 
ing and  the  glassy  reaches  of  the  Thames,  with  its 
vigorous  growth  of  sturdy  water-plants  at  Pangbourne 
and  Maple  Durham. 

Next  we  enter  Berkshire,  bare  and  featureless 
except  near  the  river  and  where  the  White  Horse 
appears,  a  scraggy  creature  rudely  scratched  in  the 
turf  above  a  soft  hollow  in  the  downs.  Chippenham 
is  a  little  town  in  a  wooded  hollow,  with  a  grey  spire 
and  stone  bridge  over  the  Avon.  Then  one  reaches 
a  stony  country.  The  houses  are  no  longer  of  brick, 
but  all  of  stone.  The  Box  tunnel  is  a  result  of  the 
hills.  The  villas  near  Bath,  of  grey  stone,  cling  to 
the  sides  of  the  heights  from  whose  quarries  they 
were  taken.  In  the  valley  are  Hampton  church  and 
ferry. 

Bath,  an  entirely  stone  city,  has  a  consequent 
greyness  of  its  own.  The  streets  have  a  desolate  state- 
liness,  and  are  still  the  abode  of  old  maids  and  card- 
playing  dowagers  as  when  described  by  Miss  Austen  ; 
so  Bath-chairs  are  still  the  popular  mode  of  convc}'- 
ance  to  the  frequent  tea-parties.  Beechen  Chff  is  a 
fine  feature.  In  the  centre  of  the  town  the  Abbey 
tower  shows  the  poverty  of  perpendicular  architecture. 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  385 

By  Kelsey  Oaks  we  rush  on  to  smoky  Bristol, 
all  energy  and  ugliness:  then  a  great  strange  rift  in 
the  hills  shows  where  the  Avon  winds  beneath  the 
rocks  and  hanging  bridge  of  Clifton. 

Now  there  is  a  change  to  softer  scenery  at  Clevedon, 
Woodspring  Priory,  the  odd  hill  of  Weston.  The 
houses  grow  warmer  as  well  as  the  country — no  longer 
of  grey,  but  of  red  sandstone :  the  Somersetshire 
churches,  proverbially  fine,  have  pink-grey  towers, 
their  projections  gilded  with  lichen.  Now  we  pass 
through  apple-orchards,  and  the  thorns,  snow-drifted 
with  bloom,  stand  knee-deep  in  the  long  mowing  grass. 
In  the  flats  rises  Bridgewater,  then  Taunton  with  its 
beautiful  and  picturesque  towers  standing  out  against 
the  low  grey  hills ;  Exeter,  capped  by  the  stumpy 
towers  of  its  cathedral ;  and  then  the  salt  estuary 
of  the  Teign  laps  the  bank  of  the  railway  and  we 
enter  the  woods  of  Powderham.'* 

PoivderhaiUy  June  9. — I  found  the  door  open  last 
night  and  walked  straight  into  the  hall.  Charlie  Wood 
and  Lady  Agnes  were  there  at  tea,  and  people  kept 
dropping  in — a  very  pleasant  party.  .  .  .  Lord  Devon  ^ 
is  the  kindest  of  hosts,  full  of  small  courtesies ;  but 
he  is  a  great  deal  away,  flying  up  to  London  after 
dinner  and  returning  next  day :  they  say  he  performs 
the  circumference  of  the  globe  every  year,  and  chiefly 
on  his  own  lines  of  railway. 

Lord  Devon's  only  son.  Lord  Courtenay,  is  seldom 
here,  but  when  he  is,  amuses  every  one.  One  evening 
'  Mademoiselle  Bekker '  arrived  late  at  Powderham, 

^  William  Reginald  Courtenay,  12th  Earl  of  Devon. 
VOL.  IV.  2  B 


386 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


coming  in  the  hope  to  obtain  a  chairman  for  a  meeting 
which  was  going  to  be  held  at  Exeter  in  favour  of  the 
Rights  of  Women.  There  was  a  very  distinguished 
party  in  the  house — the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  Lord 
Hahfax,  the  American  Minister  (Motley),  &c.,  and 
they  each,  while  refusing,  made  a  speech  in  answer 
to  hers,  which  was  most  eloquent.  Eventually 
Mademoiselle  Bekker  declared  herself  so  indignant 
as  to  be  led  to  unsex  herself :  she  was  Lord  Cour- 
tenay/' 

June  12. — On  Saturday  we  were  called  at  day- 
break, and  went  to  Totness  by  rail,  and  thence  in 
waggonettes  eighteen  miles  through  deep  bosky  lanes, 
and  then  over  breezy  uplands  to  the  Moult,  Lord 
Devon's  enchanting  little  place  near  Salcombe.  Here 
the  blue-green  transparent  sea  glances  through  the 
thick  foliage  deep  below  the  windings  of  the  road,  and 
the  quiet  bay  is  encircled  by  rocky  hills  tufted  with 
wood,  which  in  parts  feathers  down  into  the  water. 
We  rested  at  North  Sands  Cottage,  a  lovely  wee  place 
of  Lord  Devon's,  and  then  walked  through  the  grounds 
of  his  larger  place  of  the  Moult.  Aloes  grow  and 
flourish  here  to  an  immense  size.  Beyond  this  a  path 
— ^  Lord  Courtenay's  Walk  ' — runs  half-way  up  the 
steep  precipices  above  the  sea. 

It  was  an  enchanting  day,  white  wreaths  of  cloud 
drifting  above  in  the  blue,  deep  below  the  sea  gloriously 
transparent,  with  all  its  weed-covered  rocks  visible 
through  the  waters,  great  white  gulls  swooping  around 
with  their  wild  outcries,  and  the  pathlet  winding  up  and 
down  the  cliff,  bordered  b}^  cistus  and  thrift  in  masses 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  387 

of  pink  luxuriance.  On  the  steep  descent  to  a  cove, 
we  were  met  by  a  welcome  luncheon,  and  ate  it  high 
above  some  rock  caverns  which  are  very  curious  at 
that  point. 

One  of  the  principal  farmers  belonging  to  an 
agricultural  club  near  this  lost  his  wife  lately,  and  in 
his  kind  way  Lord  Devon  alluded  to  her  at  the  annual 
club  dinner, — speaking  of  her  as  an  admirable,  kind, 
and  industrious  woman,  and  saying  how  he  could  feel 
with  such  a  loss,  having  had  himself  a  bereavement 
which  was  ever  present  to  him.  But  at  last  the 
farmer  interrupted  him — ^  I  doan't  know  what  his 
Lordship  be  a  talking  about;  but  I  du  know  that 
she  was  an  awful  cranky,  tiresome  old  woman,  and  God 
Almighty's  very  welcome  to  she.^ 

Yesterday  was  Sunday.  I  went  to  the  service  at 
Powderham  with  Lord  Devon  and  Lady  Mary  Fortescue 
in  a  chapel  opposite  the  white  recumbent  marble  figure 
of  Lady  Devon.  The  afternoon  was  spent  in  the 
'  plantation  garden,'  where  an  Australian  gum-tree  was 
in  full  flower.  In  the  evening  there  were  prayers — 
^  CompHne,'  they  called  it — a  very  living,  earnest  service 
in  the  chapel.  .  .  .  Truly  I  felt,  as  I  took  leave  of 
Charlie,  that  above  the  door  of  every  house  that  is 
his  home  might  be  inscribed  the  words  of  S.  Bernard 
engraved  over  the  threshold  of  many  Cistercian  houses 
— *  Bonum  est  nos  hie  esse,  quia  homo  vivit  purius, 
cadit  rarius,  surgit  velocius,  incedit  cautius,  quiescit 
securius,  moritur  felicius,  purgatur  citius,  praemiatur 
copiosius.' 


Abbots  Kerswellj  Jnne  15. — Yesterday  Sir  Samuel 


388 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


and  Lady  Baker  dined  here.  He  is  most  agreeable, 
and  possesses  H'art  de  narrer'  to  perfection.  He  told 
a  ghost-story  in  the  evening,  without  either  names, 
dates,  or  any  definite  material,  and  yet  it  was  quite 
admirable,  and  kept  the  company  breathless  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour.'^ 

June  16. — Yesterday  we  paid  a  long  visit  to  Sir 
Samuel  Baker.  He  has  bought  and  made  his  place 
with  the  money  he  received  from  the  Khedive  for  his 
African  discoveries.^  The  house  is  full  of  skeleton 
heads,  horns,  &c.  Many  others  were  destroyed  in 
the  African  depot  by  an  insect  which  forces  out  the 
bone  as  with  a  gimlet,  but  fortunately  it  will  not  live 
in  England." 

Charlton  Hallj  Jtme  ly. — I  spent  several  hours  in 
Bath  on  my  way  here.  It  was  an  exquisite  day,  and 
everything  was  in  great  beauty.  Bath  seems  a  town 
exclusively  intended  for  the  rich.  Everything  being 
built  of  stone  gives  it  a  foreign  character,  and  the 
height  of  the  surrounding  hills  causes  you  to  see 
green  down  every  street.  I  felt  age  in  the  way  in 
which  everything  looked  so  small  in  proportion  to 
my  recollection. 

At  Chippenham  a  dogcart  from  Lord  Suffolk's  was 
waiting  for  me,  and  we  rolled  away  down  the  dull 
lanes  to  Malmesbury.  It  was  curious  in  one  day  to 
revisit,  as  it  were,  six  years  out  of  my  former  life. 
At  Bath  I  had  walked  up  the  hill  to  where  I  could 
look  down  upon  Lyncombe,  and  what  memories  it 

^  Sir  Samuel  Baker  died  Dec.  1893. 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  389 

awakened  of  miserable  longings  after  a  fuller,  more 
interesting  life,  which  lasted  through  the  whole  of  two 
years  and  a  half  of  wasted,  monotonous,  objectless 
time.  Now  in  my  full  life,  looking  down  upon  that 
richly  wooded  glen,  it  seemed  quite  beautiful;  but  in 


CHARLTON  HALL. 


the  wretched  bondage  of  those  weary  years,  how 
hideous  it  all  was  ! 

^^At  Chippenham,  as  I  passed  the  park  at  Harnish, 
I  went  back  farther  still  to  three  years  and  a  half 
of  private  school  imprisonment  and  the  pettiest  of 
petty  miseries.    They  do  not  matter  much  now  cer- 


390 


THE    STORY    OF    MY  LIFE 


tainly,  but  one  does  grudge  six  years  of  youth  denuded 
of  all  that  makes  life  pleasant  and  beautiful. 

Charlton  is  a  magnificent  old  house  of  yellow-grey 
stone,  Jacobean,  open  on  all  sides,  a  perfect  quad- 
rangle. Inside,  there  was  once  a  courtyard,  but  a 
former  Lord  Suffolk  closed  it  in.  It  remained  for  many 
years  a  mere  gravelled  space :  lately  Lady  Suffolk 
has  had  it  paved,  and  to  a  certain  extent  furnished. 
The  rooms  are  handsome  in  stucco  ornaments,  but 
not  picturesque.  The  pictures  are  glorious.  There 
is  one  of  the  noblest  known  works  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
— '  La  Vierge  aux  Rochers/  the  figures  all  with  the  pecu- 
liar Leonardo  type  of  face,  grouped  in  a  rocky  valley 
— strange,  wild,  and  fantastic.^  The  picture  which  to 
me  is  most  charming  is  ^  Le  Raboteur,'  attributed  to 
Annibale  Carracci.  The  Virgin,  a  sweet-looking  peasant 
woman,  yet  with  an  expression  of  'pondering  these 
things  in  her  heart,'  is  sitting  outside  her  cottage  door 
with  her  work-basket  by  her  side.  The  boy  Jesus, 
in  a  simple  blue  tunic,  is  standing  at  the  end  of  the 
carpenter's  table — '  subject  to  his  parents  ' — doing  some 
measuring  for  old  Joseph,  who  is  at  work  there.  It 
is  a  quiet  village  group  such  as  one  has  often  seen, 
only  elevated  by  expression. 

''There  is  a  glorious  old  gallery  with  a  noble  ceil- 
ing, full  of  portraits  and  of  old  and  interesting  books. 
In  the  'rose  parlour'  are  more  pictures,  and  a  ceiling 
the  design  of  which  is  repeated  in  the  flower-garden. 
Many  of  the  pictures  belonged  to  James  II.  When 
he  fled,  he  sent  them  to  be  taken  care  of  by  Colonel 

1  This  picture  was  sold  to  the  National  Gallery  in  1880  for  £gooOf 
and  is  probably  the  cheapest  purchase  the  Gallery  ever  made. 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


Graham,  who  had  married  the  Earl  of  Berkshire's 
daughter,  and  Wilham  III.  afterwards  allowed  them 
to  remain.'^ 

June  18. — Yesterday  it  rained  at  intervals  all  day. 
I  drew  the  gallery,  and  enjoyed  talking  to  Lady  Suffolk,^ 
who  sat  by  me,  with  a  charm  of  face  and  manner  and 
mind  which  recalls  Donne's  lines — 

'  No  spring  or  summer  beauty  hath  such  grace 
As  I  have  seen  on  one  autumnal  face.' 

She  lives  so  far  more  in  the  heavenly  than  the  earthly 
horizons,  that  one  feels  raised  above  earth  whilst  one 
is  with  her.  She  spoke  of  the  impossibility  of  believ- 
ing in  eternity  of  punishment,  yet  of  the  mass  of  diffi- 
culties besetting  all  explanations.  She  talked  of  a 
woman  in  the  village  in  failing  health  and  unhappy. 
Being  asked  if  she  was  not  troubled  in  her  mind,  she 
confessed  that  she  was,  but  said,  ^  It  is  not  for  want  of 
light;  I  have  had  plenty  of  light.'  She  said  her  father 
had  said  to  her,  ^  Now  if  you  go  to  hell,  Hannah,  it 
will  not  be  for  want  of  light.' 

Some  one  had  urged  Lady  Suffolk  to  go  and  hear 
Moody  and  Sankey,  because  their  sermons  on  heaven 
were  such  a  refreshment  and  rest :  she  had  gone,  and 
the  sermon  had  all  been  about  hell. 

Lady  Victoria  drove  me  to  Malmesbury.  The  town 
cross  is  beautiful.  The  Abbey  is  a  gigantic  remnant 
of  a  colossal  whole ;  the  existing  church  being  about 
two-thirds  of  the  nave  of  the  original  abbey-church, 
entered  by  a  magnificent  Norman  door.    By  the  altar 

^  Isabella,  second  daughter  of  Lord  Henry  Howard. 


392 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


is  a  tomb  to  King  Athelstan,  erected  some  centuries 
after  his  death,  and  there  is  a  gallery  like  Prior  Bolton's 
in  Smithfield.'' 

June  18. — I  sleep  at  Charlton  in  the  ^king's  room/ 
so  called  from  James  II.  It  is  hung  with  tapestry  and 
old  pictures.  As  we  were  going  to  bed,  Andover  said, 
^  You  sleep  in  the  haunted  room.^  Consequently  every 
noise,  which  I  had  never  observed  before,  troubled  me 
through  the  night.  One  ought  never  to  be  told  that  a 
room  is  haunted. 

Conversation  has  been  much  about  Mrs.  Wagstaff, 
a  homoeopathic  clairvoyant,  wife  of  an  allopathic  doctor 
at  Leighton  Buzzard.  She  comes  up  to  London  if 
desired,  and  works  wonderful  cures.  In  her  trances 
her  conversation  is  most  remarkable,  but  out  of  them 
she  is  a  very  ordinary  person.  She  never  remembers 
when  awake  having  seen  any  one  (with  her  eyes  half- 
open)  in  a  trance,  but  meets  as  a  perfect  stranger 
the  person  she  has  just  been  talking  to  for  half-an- 
hour. 

^'  It  was  odd  on  Sunday  having  no  service  in  church 
till  six  in  the  evening,  but  certainly  very  pleasant. 
We  walked  in  the  park  beforehand  to  Sans  Souci,  a 
pretty  wood  in  which  a  clear  stream  has  its  source, 
throwing  up  the  sand  in  the  oddest  way  in  a  large 
round  basin.  Numbers  of  trees  were  lying  about,  cut 
down,  as  Andover  said,  '  to  meet  the  annual  demand 
for  the  needy  /  ^' 

June  19. — The  Andovers^  little  girl  is  most  amus- 
ing.   At  six,  if  she  catches  a  new  w^ord,  she  uses  it 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  393 

without  the  sHghtest  idea  as  to  its  meaning.  Her  maid 
Sabina  went  to  her  to-day  and  said^  '  Now,  Miss 
Howard,  I  must  put  on  your  things,  for  you  must  go 
out.' —  ^  No,  Sabina,  you  must  not,'  promptly  said 
^  Tiny- Wee.' — ^  But  I  really  must,  Miss  Howard,'  said 
Sabina. — ^  No,  Sabina,  you  must  not,'  persisted  Tiny 
Wee. — ^  And  why,  Miss  Howard  ?  '  said  Sabina. — '  Be- 
cause, Sabina,  it  is  co-eternal^^  said  Tiny-Wee  very 
solemnly;  and  Sabina  was  utterly  quelled  and  gave 
way  at  once.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  Tiny  had  been 
to  church  and  heard  the  Athanasian  Creed. 

Andover  has  been  describing  a  clergyman  who 
preached  on  the  fatted  calf,  and  sought  his  words  as 
well  as  his  ideas  as  he  proceeded  extempore,  and  said, 
^  He  came  home,  my  brethren,  he  came  home  to  his 
father,  to  his  dear  father,  and  his  father  killed  for  him 
the  fatted  calf,  which  he  had  been  saving  up  for  years, 
my  brethren — saving  up  for  years  for  some  festive 
occasion.' 

He  told  of  an  American  who  never  was  in  time  for 
anything  in  his  life,  was  unpunctual  for  everything 
systematically.  One  day,  in  a  very  out-of-the-way 
place,  he  fell  into  a  cataleptic  state,  and  was  supposed 
to  be  dead.  According  to  the  rapidity  of  American 
movement,  instead  of  bringing  the  undertaker  to  him, 
they  took  him  to  the  undertaker,  who  fitted  him  with 
a  coffin  and  left  him,  only  laying  the  coffin  lid  loosely 
on  the  outside  of  it.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  he 
awoke  frftm  his  trance,  pushed  off  the  lid,  and  finding 
himself  in  a  place  alone  surrounded  by  a  quantity  of 
coffins,  he  jumped  up  and  pushed  off  the  lid  of  the 
coffin  nearest  to  him.    He  found  nothing.    He  tried 


394  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [l^76 

another  :  nothing.  ^  Good  God  ! '  he  cried,  '  I've  been 
late  all  my  life,  and  now  Fm  late  for  the  resurrection!'" 

June  20. — Yesterday  we  had  a  delightful  drive  to 
see  Lady  Cowley  at  Draycot,  a  most  charming  place  of 
happy  medium  size,  in  a  park  full  of  fern  and  old  oaks. 
Lord  Mornington,  who  left  it  to  the  Cowleys,  was  quite 
a  distant  cousin,  and  they  expected  nothing.  He  came 
to  dine  with  them  occasionally  at  Paris,  he  mounted 
Lady  Feodore  for  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  one  day 
they  suddenly  found  themselves  the  heirs  of  Draycot, 
perfectly  fitted  up  with  everything  they  could  possibly 
wish  for.  It  was  like  a  fairy  story,  and  Lady  Cowley 
has  never  attempted  to  conceal  her  enchantment  at  it. 

To-day  we  went  to  a  different  place — Mr.  Hol- 
ford's  new  house  of  Westonbirt.  It  is  an  immense 
building  in  a  flat,  ugly  situation.  The  hall  goes  up  the 
whole  height  of  the  house,  with  open  galleries  to  the 
bedrooms,  so  that  every  one  sees  who  goes  in  and  out 
of  them.  The  dining-room  has  a  fine  Jacobean  chim- 
ney-piece and  modern  Corinthian  pillars.  There  is  a 
great  chimney-piece  in  another  room,  which  was  an 
altar  in  a  church  at  Rome.  All  is  huge,  and  seemed 
very  comfortless. 

It  has  been  a  most  happy  visit  to  the  Suffblks,  with 
whom  one  is  completely  at  home.  As  Lady  Suffolk 
says,  though  they  have  often  wished  to  be  rich,  they 
have  been  much  happier  for  being  poor,  for  they  have 
all  been  obliged  to  do  their  part  in  the  house  and  place, 
and  all  that  has  to  be  carried  on  there,  and  so  it  is  to 
them  not  only  the  scene  of  their  life,  but  of  their 
work." 


i876] 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


395 


June  22. — Yesterday  I  went  to  Oxford,  and  came 
in,  without  intending  it,  for  Commemoration.  1  will 
never  go  there  again  if  I  can  help  it.  It  is  like  visit- 
ing a  grave  of  happy  past  years." 

June  28. — Went  to  Holland  House.  The  deep 
shade  of  its  lofty  avenue  is  enchanting  as  one  turns  in 
from  the  baking  street  of  Kensington.  Lady  Holland 
sat  in  the  inner  room,  with  her  sweet  face  encircled 
by  the  prettiest  of  old-fashioned  caps.  Beau  Atkinson 
was  with  her,  with  a  lovely  little  Skye  dog  in  his  arms, 
and  Lady  Lilford  with  her  two  fine  boys.  After  talk- 
ing some  time,  we  wandered  into  the  gardens  under 
the  old  cedars.  When  we  came  in,  old  Mr.  Cheney 
was  leaning  over  Lady  Holland^s  chair,  chuckhng  to 
himself  over  the  dogmatic  self-assertion  of  Mr.  Hay- 
ward,^  who  was  talking  to  her  of  books,  the  value  of 
which  he  considered  to  be  quite  decided  by  his  opinion 
of  them.  Especially  he  talked  of  Ticknor's  Memoirs, 
so  remarkable  because,  though  he  was  an  American 
of  the  most  lowly  origin,  it  is  evident  that  when  he 
came  to  Europe  he  not  only  saw  the  best  society  of 
every  country  he  visited,  but  saw  it  intimately — which 
could  only  have  been  due  to  his  own  personal  charm. 

Dined  at  Lady  Barrington's.  She  said  I  must 
be  presented,  and  George  Barrington  said  he  should 
present  me. 

^  Mr.  Abraham  Hayward,  the  well-known  critic  and  essayist,  who 
had  been  articled  in  early  life  to  an  obscure  country  attorney,  always 
seemed  to  consider  it  the  suniuiuin-bonum  of  life  to  dwell  amongst  the 
aristocracy  as  a  man  of  letters  :  and  in  this  he  succeeded  admirably, 
and  was  always  witty  and  well-informed,  usually  satirical,  and  often 
very  coarse. 


396  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1876 

"  L.  was  full  of  a  dinner  she  had  been  at  at  Count 
Beust's.  The  Prince  Imperial  was  there,  who  had 
always  hitherto  been  regarded  as  only  a  pleasant  boy, 
but  who  electrified  them  on  this  occasion  by  a  remarkable 
flash  of  wit.  It  had  been  impossible  to  avoid  asking 
the  French  Ambassador,  but  Count  Beust  had  taken 
especial  pains  to  make  it  as  little  offensive  as  possible. 
He  took  in  the  Princess  of  Wales  to  supper  and 
placed  her  at  the  same  table  with  the  Prince  Imperial. 
The  Comte  and  Comtesse  d'Harcourt  were  at  another 
table  with  the  Prince  of  Wales.  Suddenly  an  offensive 
pushing  man,  first  secretary  to  the  French  embassy, 
brought  Mademoiselle  d'Harcourt  to  the  Prince  Im- 
perial's table  and  sat  down.  The  Prince  was  very 
much  annoyed.  Looking  up  at  a  picture  of  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria,  he  asked  if  it  resembled  him — '  I  do 
not  remember  him,  I  was  so  very  young  when  I  saw 
him,^  and  then  in  a  louder  tone,  ^  I  wonder  how  the 
French  Ambassador  represents  the  Republic  of  France 
on  the  walls  of  his  rooms.'  " 

June  29. — Yesterday  I  went  down  into  Kent  for 
Miss  Virginia  Smith's  wedding  with  young  Francis 
Villiers/  toiling  in  a  cab  with  Lady  Craven  over  the  hot 
chalky  hills.  The  breakfast  was  at  Selsden  Park,  a 
lovely  place  belonging  to  a  child-heiress,  Erroll  Smith's 
daughter. 

Dined  with  Lady  Head,  and  we  went  on  together 
to  Baroness  Burdett  Coutts',  where  Irving  read  Macbeth 
to  an  immense  company,  chiefly  bishops  and  arch- 


1  Fourth  son  of  the  4th  Earl  of  Clarendon. 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


397 


bishops  and  their  belongings.  The  reading  was  stilted 
and  quite  ineffective/' 

June  30. — A  most  pleasant  party  at  Lord  Ducie's 
— Mr.  and  Miss  Froude,  Sir  James  Lacaita,  Miss  Grant 
the  sculptress,  Lord  Aberdeen  and  Lady  Katherine, 
Lord  Northbrook  and  Lady  Emma  Baring,  Lord  Cam- 
perdown,  Mr.,  Mrs.,  and  Miss  Gladstone,  Lord  Vernon, 
George  and  Lady  Constance  Shaw-Lefevre,  &c. 

''There  was  very  agreeable  conversation,  chiefly 
about  Macaulay's  Life — of  his  wonderful  memory  and 
the  great  power  it  gave  him.  Gladstone  said  the  most 
astonishing  thing  about  him  was  that  he  could  re- 
member not  only  the  things  worth  knowing,  but  the 
most  extraordinary  amount  of  trash.  He  described 
another  man  he  knew  who,  after  once  reading  over 
the  advertisement  sheet  of  the  Tt7neSj  could  repeat 
it  straight  through. 

''  In  the  evening  I  was  asked  to  tell  a  story,  and 
did,  feehng  that  if  Irving  amused  people  for  about 
three  hundred  nights  of  the  year,  it  was  rather  hard 
if  I  declined  to  amuse  him  on  one  of  the  remaining 
sixty-five.  He  enjoyed  it  more  than  any  one  else, 
and  lingering  behind,  when  all  were  gone  but  Mrs. 
Gladstone  and  one  or  two  others,  said,  '  Now  that  we 
are  such  a  very  small  party,  do  tell  us  another.' 

July  6. — Went  by  rail  with  Mr.  Ralph  Button  and 
'  Beauty  Stephens'  to  Syon.  It  is  a  great  house  in  a 
low-lying  park,  on  the  edge  of  which  the  Thames 
is  marked  by  its  great  lines  of  tall  sedges  and  the 
barges  going  up  and  down  with  music  through  the  flat 


398 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


meadow-lands.  On  the  parapet  of  the  house  is  the 
poor  old  lion  from  Northumberland  House.  The  lime- 
trees  were  in  flower,  scenting  the  whole  air. 

'^Lady  Percy  received  in  the  gallery,  and  about  two 
thousand  guests  were  collected  on  the  lawn.  I  took 
courage  and  went  and  talked  to  the  Japanese  ambas- 
sadress, who  was  very  smiling,  but  did  not  say  much 
beyond  ^  Me  speak  leetle  English  and  no  moosh 
French.' " 

July  7. — Went  by  water  with  Mrs.  Mostyn,  Miss 
Monk,  and  Miss  Milnes  to  Fulham.  The  steamer  was 
actually  two  hours  and  a  half  on  the  way.  There 
was  an  interest  in  recognising  a  whole  gallery  of  De 
Wint's  sketches  in  the  tall  bosky  trees,  the  weirs,  the 
great  water-plants,  and  still  more  on  the  causeway 
leading  from  Fulham  Church  to  the  palace.  It  was  a 
gloriously  hot  day,  and  very  pleasant  sitting  under  the 
old  gateway  looking  into  the  sunlit  court,  with  full 
light  on  the  rich  decorations  of  the  brickwork  and  the 
massy  creepers. 

Afterwards,  I  was  at  a  beautiful  and  charming  party 
at  Holland  House.  A  number  of  grown-up  royalties 
and  a  whole  bevy  of  royal  children  sat  under  the  trees 
watching  Punch  and  Judy.  The  Prince  Imperial,  with 
charming  natural  manners,  walked  about  and  talked 
to  every  one  he  knew.  I  was  happy  in  finding  Lady 
Andover  and  many  other  friends.  Towards  the  end, 
Lady  Wynford  said  the  Princess  Amelie  of  Schleswig^ 
desired  that  I  might  be  presented  to  her,  as  she  had 
read  my  books,  &c.    She  is  elderly,  but  enjoys  life  and 

^  Eldest  sister  of  Prince  Christian. 


1 876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


399 


dances  at  all  the  balls  she  is  asked  to,  especially  at 
Pan,  of  which  she  talked  with  animation." 

July  8. — At  luncheon  at  Lady  Alwyn  Compton's 
I  met  Lady  Marion  Alford.  There  was  miicli  talk  of 
the  wills  of  old  London  citizens—  how  Mr.  Bancroft 


COURTYARD,  FULHAM  PALACE.  1 

had  desired  in  his  that  for  a  hundred  years  a  loaf  of 
bread  and  a  bottle  of  wine  should  be  placed  in  his 
vault  every  year  on  the  anniversary  of  his  death,  be- 
cause he  was  convinced  that  before  that  time  he  should 
awake  from  his  death-sleep  and  require  it,  and  the 
hundred  years  had  only  just  expired  ; — of  how  Jeremy 
Bentham's  body,  in  accordance  with  his  will,  was  pro- 


^  From  "Walks  in  London." 


400 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


1 


duced  a  year  after  his  death  at  the  feast  of  a  club  he 
had  founded,  and  how  all  the  company  fled  from  it. 

I  was  afterwards  at  a  breakfast  at  Lord  Bute's. 
There  were  few  people  I  knew  there,  and  the  grass 
was  very  wet,  so  I  sat  under  the  verandah  with  the 
Egertons.  Presently  an  old  lady  was  led  out  there, 
very  old,  and  evidently  unable  to  walk,  but  with  a  dear 
beautiful  face,  dressed  in  widow's  weeds.  She  seemed 
to  know  no  one,  so  gradually — I  do  not  know  how  it 
came  about — I  gave  her  a  rose,  and  sat  down  at  her 
feet  on  the  mat  and  she  talked  of  many  beautiful  things. 
She  was  evidently  sitting  in  the  most  peaceful  waiting 
upon  the  very  threshold  of  the  heavenly  kingdom. 
When  I  was  going  away  she  said,  ^  I  should  like  to 
know  whom  I  have  been  talking  to.'  I  said,  '  My 
name  is  Augustus  Hare.'  She  said,  ^  I  divined  that 
when  you  gave  me  the  flower.'  I  have  not  a  notion 
who  she  was.^ 

I  dined  at  Sir  John  Lefevre's,  and  was  pained  to 
see  how  weak  and  failing  he  looks.  The  Rianos 
were  there  and  Sir  James  Lacaita,  and  in  the  evening 
Lady  Ducie  came  in,  radiant  with  goodness  and  beauty." 

July  II. — A  very  pleasant  dinner  at  Lord  Ebury's. 
He  overflows  with  kindness.  He  said,  ^  If  this  hot 
weather  is  trying  for  you  and  me,  it  is  very  good  for 
the  corn  :  that  hardens,  while  we  melt.' '' 

July  13. — Luncheon  with  Sir  C.  Trevelyan,  who 
showed  me  Macaulay's  library,  and  then  drove  me  to 


^  Many  years  afterwards  I  saw  her  again :  her  name  was  Mrs. 
Macnabb. 


f 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  4O I 

see  the  remnant  of  the  house  of  Villiers,  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  in  ViUiers  Street.  Peter  the  Great  lived 
there  when  in  London,  and  David  Copperfield  is  made 
to  lodge  there  by  Dickens. 

Dined  at  Lord  CardwelFs,  where  I  sat  by  George 
Otto  Trevelyan,  the  author  of  Lord  Macaulay^s  Life. 
At  Lord  Sherborne's  in  the  evening  I  found  Irving, 
with  all  the  three  hundred  nights  of  his  Hamlet 
on  his  face.  I  was  introduced  to  Dr.  Ellicott,  Bishop 
of  Gloucester  and  Bristol,  a  little  dapper  man  in  a 
violet  coat." 

July  14. — Luncheon  at  Mrs.  Lowe's.  She  was 
most  amusing  about  her  pets.  ^  Mr.  Lowe,  you  know, 
is  always  going  out  and  bringing  home  a  new  animal : 
he  does  like  pets  so.  He  went  and  he  bought  a  dog, 
and  then  he  went  and  bought  a  parrot,  and  then  he 
bought  a  cockatoo  and  a  cat,  and  I  said,  Mr.  Lowe, 
if  you  go  and  buy  any  more  pets,  I  will  go  out  of  the 
house,  because  I  will  not  bear  it,"  and  then  Mr.  Lowe 
went  and  bought  Bow-wow,  the  little  white  dog,  and 
it  had  not  cut  its  teeth,  and  it  was  so  dreadfully  ill, 
and  we  had  to  nurse  it,  and  it  gave  us  more  trouble 
than  all  the  other  pets  put  together;  and  I  like 
Bow-wow  the  best  of  them  all,  and  Mrs.  Scutt  (that's 
the  housekeeper)  is  just  the  same. 

'  I  said  to  Mr.  Lowe,  If  you  will  go  downstairs 
with  that  cockatoo  on  your  shoulder,  it  will  fly  away 
out  of  the  window,  and  you'll  lose  him,"  but  Mr.  Lowe 
would  do  it,  you  know,  he's  so  obstinate ;  and  it  was 
just  as  I  said,  and  the  cockatoo  flew  out  of  the  stair- 
case window,  and  Mr.  Lowe  was  in  a  fine  way  about 

VOL.  IV.  2  c 


40  2  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

him.  There  are  a  lot  of  boys  watching  for  him  now, 
and  he^ll  come  back  some  day,  for  every  one  knows 
Mr.  Lowe's  cockatoo :  but  he  won't  come  back  yet. 
And  finely  he's  enjoying  himself,  that  bird  is;  he's 
never  had  such  a  fine  time  in  his  life;  he's  finished 
all  the  cherries  in  Eldon  Grove,  and  he's  just  beginning 
upon  the  gooseberries. 

^  When  we  drive  down  to  Caterham,  Bow-wow  and 
Elfin,  the  two  dogs,  sit  upon  the  back-seat,  and  the 
cat  sits  in  the  middle.  They  look  out  of  the  windows 
and  amuse  themselves  wonderfully,  and  finely  the 
people  stare. 

'When  I  first  married  Mr.  Lowe  we  lived  at  Oxford. 
It  was  quite  delightful :  we  had  all  the  interesting 
society  of  the  University,  and  Mr.  Lowe  was  a  tutor 
and  taught  all  the  clever  young  men.  When  we  went 
up  to  London,  we  hired  a  coach,  and  had  six  first- 
class  men  inside,  all  Mr.  Lowe's  pupils.  Then  Mr. 
Lowe's  eyes  failed,  and  we  threw  it  all  up  and  went 
to  Australia,  and  were  away  six  years ;  but  it  answered 
to  us,  for  I  had  some  money  left  to  me  at  that  time, 
and  Mr.  Lowe  had  some  money  left  to  him,  and  we 
invested  it  there  in  houses,  and  they  pay  us  60  per 
cent.,  and  we  made  our  fortunes. 

'  How  sad  the  Duchess  of    going  away  is  ! 

She  cried  so  dreadfully  when  she  went,  that  I  am 
sure  it's  for  ever.  Don't  you  think,  if  I  had  had  a 
dreadful  quarrel  with  Mr.  Lowe,  and  we  had  parted 
for  ever,  that  I  should  cry  too  ?  It  is  a  very  different 
thing  when  it  is  not  for  ever.  I  go  off  to  Wiesbaden 
for  six  weeks,  and  I  wish  Mr.  Lowe  good-b3^e,  and  I 
say,  '^Well,  good-bye,  Mr.  Lowe;  in  six  weeks  you'll 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  4O3 

have  me  back  again/'  and  if  we  have  quarrelled,  it 
does  not  signify ;  but  it  would  be  very  different  if  it 
was  for  ever.    Why,  I  should  cry  my  eyes  out/ 

One  day,  however,  when  Mrs.  Lowe  was  inveigh- 
ing against  the  absurdity  of  the  marriage  service — of 
the  bridegroom's  statement,  '  With  all  my  worldly  goods 
I  thee  endow,'  even  when  he  possessed  nothing  and  it 
was  just  the  other  way,  and  when  she  was  saying,  ^  Now 
when  I  married  Mr.  Lowe,  he  had  nothing  whatever  but 
his  brains ' — a  deep  voice  from  the  end  of  the  room 
growled  out,  /  Well,  my  love,  I  certainly  did  not  endow 
you  with  those.' 

^  Why  contend  against  your  natural  advantages  ?  ' 
said  Mr.  Lowe  one  day  to  a  deaf  friend  who  was 
holding  up  an  ear-trumpet  to  listen  to  a  bore. 

In  the  afternoon  I  drove  down  with  Lady  Sher- 
borne, Miss  Button,  and  Miss  Elhot  to  see  Lord  Russell 
at  Pembroke  Lodge.  It  is  a  beautiful  place ;  not  merely 
a  bit  of  Richmond  Park,  but  a  bit  of  old  forest  en- 
closed, with  grand  old  oaks  and  fern.  The  Queen 
gives  it  to  Lord  Russell,  who,  at  eighty-four,^  was 
seated  in  a  Bath-chair  in  the  garden,  on  a  sort  of 
bowHng-green,  watching  his  grandsons  play  at  tennis. 
Though  he  no  longer  comprehends  present  events, 
he  is  said  to  be  perfectly  clear  about  a  far-away  past, 
and  will  converse  at  any  length  about  Napoleon,  the 
escape  from  Elba,  &c.  When  I  was  presented  to  him, 
by  way  of  something  to  say,  I  spoke  of  having  seen 
the  historical  mound  in  his  garden,  and  asked  what 
it  was  that  Henry  VIII.  watched  for  from  thence  as 
a  death-signal,  ^was  it  a  rocket  or  a  black  flag?' 

1  Lord  Russell  died  May  28,  1878. 


404 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


^  It  was  a  rocket/ 
*''Then  that  would  imply  that  the  execution  was 
at  night,  for  he  would  hardly  have  seen  a  rocket 
by  day/ 

'  No,  it  was  not  at  night ;  it  was  very  early  in  the 
morning.  She  was  a  very  much  maligned  woman 
was  that  Anne  Boleyn/ 

We  all  sat  by  a  fountain  under  the  oak-trees,  and 
then  went  into  the  house  to  a  sort  of  five-o'clock  tea 
on  a  large  scale. 

Hohnhurstj  July  15. — Returned  to  the  dear  little 
home,  where  I  found  Charlotte  Leycester  sitting  on 
the  terrace  surrounded  by  the  dogs,  looking  on  the 
lovely  view  from  our  greenery.  The  intense  freshness 
of  the  air,  the  glory  of  the  flowers,  the  deep  blue  sea 
beyond  our  upland  hayfields,  and  the  tame  doves 
cooing  in  the  copper  beech-tree,  are  certainly  a  re- 
freshing contrast  to  London,  though  I  should  never 
have  been  able  to  leave  it  unless  Duty  had  pulled 
at  me." 

Highcliffe^  July  24. — In  this  most  unearthly  Para- 
dise all  looks  like  last  year  going  on  still — the  huge 
stems  of  chestnut,  and  the  white  lihes  and  bulrushes 
in  the  great  vase  relieved  against  the  old  boiserie 
of  the  saloon ;  the  wide  window-porch  open  to  the 
fountain  and  orange-trees  and  sunlit  terraces  and  sea ; 
Lady  Waterford  coming  in  her  hat  and  long  sweeping 
dress  through  the  narrow  wind-blown  arbutus  avenue ; 
old  Mrs.  Hamilton-Hamilton  in  her  pleasant  sitting- 
room,  with  Miss  Lindsay  hovering  about  and  waiting 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


405 


on  her  like  a  maid-of-honour ;  the  Elhces,  so  cordial 
and  pleasant,  so  beaming  with  kindness  and  goodness, 
their  largeness  of  heart  quite  preventing  their  being 
able  to  indulge  in  the  sectarian  part  of  their  own 


HOLMHURST. 


religious  ideas.  ...  I  have  felt,  as  I  alwa3^s  do,  very 
shy  at  first,  and  then  entirely  at  home.'' 

July  25. — We  have  all,  I  think,  basked  as  much 
in  the  mental  sunshine  of  this  beautiful  life  as  in  the 
external  sunshine  which  illumines  the  brilliant  flowers 
and  glancing  sea. 


406  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

We  walked  on  the  shore  this  afternoon.  ^  See 
what  festival  the  sea  has  been  making,  and  what  beau- 
tiful coloured  weeds  she  has  been  scattering/  said 
Lady  Waterford.  We  found  two  little  boots  project- 
ing from  the  sand,  and  as  we  dug  them  out  and  found 
them  filled  and  stiff,  we  really  expected  a  drowned 
child  to  follow ;  but  it  was  only  sand  that  filled  them, 
and  the  little  Payne  child  of  Chewton  Bunny  had  lost 
them  when  bathing.  As  we  sat  on  the  shore  while 
Lady  Waterford  looked  for  fossils,  a  staith  came  down 
from  the  Bunny  and  flooded  the  little  stream  into  a 
river,  cutting  off  our  return.  We,  the  male  part,  crossed 
much  higher  up:  Lady  Waterford  plunged  in  and  walked: 
Lady  Jane  took  off  shoes  and  stockings  and  waded. 

Lady  Waterford  has  talked  much  of  marriages — 
how  even  indifferent  marriages  tone  down  into  a 
degree  of  comfort  which  is  better  for  most  women 
than  desolation." 

July  26.— We  walked  in  the  evening  to  the  Haven 
House.  The  old  pine-wood,  with  its  roots  writhing 
out  of  the  sand,  and  its  lovely  views  over  still  reaches 
of  water  to  the  great  grey  church,  and  the  herons  fish- 
ing, are  more  picturesque  than  ever.  Afterwards  Lady 
Herbert  of  Lea  arrived  with  her  beautiful  daughter 
Gladys.^  Lady  Herbert  is  suffering  still  from  the 
bite  of  a  scorpion  when  she  was  drawing  in  the  ruins 
of  Karnac." 

July  29. — In  the  afternoon  I  went  with  Lady 
Waterford  to   General  Maberly,  who  talked,  as  it 

^  Lady  Gladys  afterwards  married  the  4th  Earl  of  Lonsdale. 


Swa.ii  Electric  Engra/v  in^  C^. 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


407 


seemed  to  me,  very  sensibly  about  the  exaggerations 
of  teetotalism.  He  thought  that  every  one  should  do 
as  they  pleased,  and  that  it  was  wrong  of  a  great  land- 
owner to  prevent  the  existence  of  a  public-house  on 
his  estate  :  that  it  was  following  the  teaching  of  the 
Baptist  rather  than  that  of  our  Saviour,  for  'was  not 
our  Saviour  a  wine-bibber  ?  ' 

*'Lady  Waterford  has  been  speaking  of  sympathy  for 
others ;  that  there  is  nothing  more  distressing  than  to 
see  another  person  mortified, 

'  Mama  could  never  bear  to  see  any  one  mortified. 
Once  at  Paris,  at  a  ball  they  had,  there  was  a  poor 
lady,  and  not  only  her  chignon,  but  the  whole  edifice 
of  hair  she  had,  fell  off  in  the  dance.  And  Mama  was 
so  sorry  for  her,  and,  when  all  the  ladies  tittered,  as 
she  was  Madame  I'Ambassadrice  and  a  person  of  some 
influence,  I  don't  think  it  was  wrong  of  her  to  apply 
the  verse,  and  she  said,  Let  the  woman  among  us 
who  has  no  false  hair  be  the  first  to  throw  a  stone 
at  her.''' 

July  30. — Hamilton  Aide  says  he  went  to  visit  two 
or  three  times  at  a  lunatic  asylum.  The  matron,  a 
very  nice  person,  said,  'There  is  here  a  very  extra- 
ordinary example  of  a  person  who  has  become  quite 
mad,  and  only  from  vanity.'  He  went  to  see  her.  It 
was  a  very  old  lady,  with  great  traces  of  beauty  and 
dignity  of  manner,  but  she  wore  the  most  extraordi- 
nary bonnet,  very  large,  and  from  the  fringe  hung  a 
pair  of  scissors,  a  thimble,  and  a  needle-book.  He 
made  a  civil  speech  to  her  about  being  glad  to  see  her 
looking  so  well,  or  something  of  that  kind.    In  reply 


4o8 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


she  only  just  looked  up  and  said,  '  For  further  informa- 
tion refer  to  the  25th  chapter  of  the  second  Book  of 
Kings/  and  took  no  more  notice  whatever." 

July  31. — Lady  Jane  Ellice  says  that  there  are 
three  shades  of  people  one  likes — those  whom  one  must 
see  in  heaven,  for  it  would  not  be  heaven  without 
them :  those  whom  one  hopes  to  see  in  heaven  and  to 
meet  there :  and  those  whom  one  hopes  will  be  in 
heaven  but  that  one  will  not  see  them  there.  Her 
singing  this  evening  of  'Zurich's  Blue  Waters/  'Three 
Blue  Bottles/  &c.,  has  been  perfectly  charming. 

''Lady  Waterford  has  been  telling  of  Ruskin  'like  a 
little  wizened  rat.'  *  He  likes  to  be  adored,  but  then 
Somers  and  I  did  adore  him,  and  he  likes  to  lash  his 
disciples  with  rods  of  iron.  I  do  not  mind  that :  it  is 
his  jokes  I  cannot  bear ;  they  make  me  so  sorry  and 
miserable  for  him.' " 

August  3. — Lady  Waterford  said  that  Lady  Stuart, 
when  a  Frenchman  tried  to  talk  to  her  in  very  bad 
English,  told  him  she  preferred  talking  French.  'Ah,' 
he  said,  'vous  aimez  mieux,  Madame,  ecorcher  les 
oreilles  des  autres,  qu'on  vous  ecorche  vos  oreilles.'  " 

^[August  have  left  Highcliffe,  and  the  gates  of 

Paradise  seem  closed  for  a  year.  There  has  been  the 
usual  perfect  confidence  about  everything  through  the 
whole  party  :  the  pleasant  going  backwards  and  for- 
wards to  '  Hamilton  Place,'  and  the  waiting  upon  old 
Mrs.  Hamilton  of  her  '  equerry  '  and  her  '  maid-of- 
honour : '  the  many  friendly  snubs  and  contradictions 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS    AND    SOCIETY  4O9 

which  rail  at  all  the  smallnesses  and  ennoble  all  the 
higher  aims  of  life.  After  luncheon  we  all  sat  in  the 
porch  surrounded  by  the  great  lilies  and  geraniums  in 
flower  and  we  had  coffee  there,  looking  upon  the  Isle 
of  Wight  with  the  Needles  looming  through  the  mist  : 
then  we  parted. 

It  was  a  long  drive  in  pouring  rain  from  Southamp- 
ton to  Sydney  Lodge,  where  I  found  a  warm  welcome 
from  dear  old  Lady  Hardwicke.^  It  is  a  moderate 
house,  with  large  gardens,  into  which  bits  of  old  forest 
are  interwoven.  This  morning  we  drove  to  Eliot 
Yorke's  house  at  Netley  Fort,  an  old  tower  of  the 
monks,  in  front  of  which  the  Mayflower  set  sail. 
The  situation  is  lovely,  close  to  the  sea,  with  a  hilly 
garden  in  miniature  and  a  machicolated  tower  rising 
out  of  ivy  walls  like  a  scene  in  a  play.  But  the  great 
charm  is  in  Eliot  himself,  so  handsome,  with  such  a 
pleasant  smile  and  melodious  voice.  His  Jewess  wife, 
Agneta  Montagu,  and  Hinchinbroke  were  there.  From 
the  garden  we  went  to  the  Abbey,  where  I  drew  while 
Hinchinbroke  amused  himself  by  pretending  to  make 
love  to  an  old  lady  Jemima  Anne ')  who  was  peering 
about  in  spectacles  amongst  the  arches.  When  we 
went  back,  boats  were  arriving  from  Cowes  at  the 
little  wharf — the  Prince  Imperial  with  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  St.  Albans  and  a  crowd  of  others.  The 
Prince  has  the  most  pleasant,  frank,  simple  manners, 
and  makes  himself  agreeable  to  every  one.  He  was 
much  amused  with  the  quantities  of  Yorkes  who 
seemed  to  crop  up  from  every  house  round,  and  said 

^  My  mother's  first  cousin,  Susan,  sixth  daughter  of  the  1st  Lord 
Ravensworth. 


410  THE    STORY  OF   MY   LIFE  .  [1876 

• 

he  ^  thought  he  must  have  landed  by  mistake  on  the 
coast  of  Yorkshire.'  His  arm  was  in  a  sHng,  and  he 
looked  pale  and  fagged,  for  somehow,  in  playing  at 
leap-frog  with  his  'camarades,'  he  had  tumbled  into  a 
camp-fire,  and,  to  save  his  face,  had  instinctively  put 
out  his  hands,  and  burnt  the  whole  skin  off  one  of 
them.  It  must  have  been  terrible  agony,  but  he  never 
complained." 

August  6. — The  Yorkes  are  absolutely  devoted  to 
each  other.  There  is  such  family  loyalty  that  every 
peccadillo  is  consecrated.  I  certainly  do  not  wonder 
at  their  love  for  Eliot ;  he  has  such  a  sweet  though 
frank  manner,  and  is  so  genial  and  kind  to  every  one.^ 
L.  has  been  talking  of  the  advantages  of  even  an  un- 
happy married  life  over  a  single  one,  as  exemplified 
by  the  poor  Empress,  who  herself  said,  ^  C'est  mieux 
d'etre  mal  a  deux  que  d'etre  seule.' 

L.  was  at  a  party  at  Mrs.  Brand's,  sitting  by  Lady 
Cork,  when  Lady  Francis  Gordon  came  up  to  her. 
'  Come,  Lady  Cork,  can  you  spell  in  five  letters  the 
three  scourges  of  society  ?  '  (drink,  rink,  ink).  ^  No,' 
said  Lady  Cork  instantly,  ^  that  I  cannot  do,  but  I  can 
spell  in  two  letters  the  two  blessings  of  society — U 
and  I.' 

Mrs.  Eliot  Yorke  is  exceedingly  pleasing  and 
much  beloved  in  her  husband's  family.  Amongst  the 
few  Jews-  I  have  known,  I  have  always  found  the 
women  infinitely  superior  to  the  men,  and  this  is  espe- 
cially the  case  with  the  Rothschilds.  Some  one  once 
made  an  observation  of  this  kind  to  Rogers  the  poet. 

^  Eliot  Yorke  died  Dec.  21,  1878 — a  bitter  family  sorrow. 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  4II 

^  Yes/  he  said,  ^the  men  crucified  Him,  but  the  women 
—wept/" 

August  12. — Last  Monday  I  went  to  Cobham  for 
a  few  days,  arriving  just  as  the  setting  sun  was  ilhi- 
minating  the  grand  old  red  brick  house  deeply  set  in 
its  massy  woods.  A  large  party  was  assembled,  its 
most  interesting  element  being  Fanny,  Lady  Win- 
chilsea,  who  is  always  delightful.  Archdeacon  Cust 
told  me  a  curious  story  of  a  Mr.  Phipps,  a  clergyman 
at  Slough.  He  asked  him  if  he  was  related  to  Lord  Nor- 
manby's  family,  and  he  said  they  were  related,  but 
that  they  had  never  known  one  another,  and  that  the 
reason  was  a  strange  one.  His  father  had  been  resid- 
ing at  Caen,  where  they  had  become  very  intimate 
with  a  French  family  called  Beaurepaire.  After  his 
father  left  Caen,  the  great  Revolution  occurred,  and 
all  the  Beaurepaire  family  perished  on  the  scaffold 
except  the  youngest  daughter,  who,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  was  spared.  Having  no  relation  left  alive, 
she  was  utterly  desolate,  and  felt  that  no  one  in  the 
world  cared  for  her  but  young  Phipps,  the  son  of 
her  former  neighbour,  who  had  evinced  an  attachment 
for  her.  So  to  the  Phipps  family  she  somehow  made 
her  way ;  but  they,  disapproving  the  attachment,  were 
all  excessively  unkind  to  her,  except  one  sister,  who 
received  her,  and  went  out  with  her  to  India,  where 
her  brother  was  then  supposed  to  be.  But  when  they 
reached  India,  they  found,  with  despair,  that  Phipps 
had  left  and  gone  to  Egypt.  Thither,  however,  they 
pursued  him,  and  there  Mademoiselle  de  Beaurepaire 
was  married  to  him.     Young  Phipps  would  never 


412 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


forgive  the  unkindness  which  had  been  shown  to  his 
wife  by  his  family,  and  the  two  branches  of  the  Phipps 
family  were  never  afterwards  friends. 

schoolmaster  near  Cobham,  named  King,  for 
some  reason  best  known  to  himself,  has  abohshed  the 
game  of  football — a  most  unpopular  move.  The  boys 
were  furious,  and  one  day,  when  the  master  entered 
the  schoolroom,  he  found  '  King  is  a  donkey '  chalked 
up  in  large  letters  on  a  board.  For  an  instant  he  was 
perplexed ;  but  it  would  never  do  to  take  no  notice. 
He  left  the  inscription,  but  added  the  single  word 
— Mriver.^  The  boys  quite  saw  the  joke,  and  the 
master^s  prestige  was  restored." 

Ainpthill  Parky  August  29,  1876. — I  came  here 
on  Monday,  stopping  some  hours  in  London  on  the 
way,  and  finding  out  ancient  treasures  in  the  purlieus 
of  Soho  and  St.  Giles's,  which,  black  and  filthy  as 
they  are,  are  still  full  of  reminiscences. 

''At  St.  Pancras  Station  I  saw  a  very  ancient  lady 
in  a  yellow  wig  step  into  a  railway  carriage  by  herself, 
and  her  footman  guard  the  door  till  the  train  started, 
and  I  felt  sure  it  was  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Cleve- 
land. At  Ampthill  Station  the  Lowther  carriage  was 
waiting  for  both  of  us,  and  we  drove  off  together.  She 
talked  the  whole  way,  but  the  carriage  rumbled  so 
that  I  could  hardly  hear  a  word  she  said,  except  that 
when  I  remarked  'What  a  fine  tree  !  '  as  we  entered  the 
park,  she  answered  rather  sharply  ^That  was  a  fine 
tree.'  She  spoke  too  of  the  Lowther  boys — '  They  are 
having  their  vacancies.  I  like  that  word  vacancies,' 
she  said. 


1876]  LONDON   WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  4I3 

It  is  a  fine  wild  park,  with  most  unexpected  ups 
and  downs  and  a  great  deal  of  grand  old  timber,  on  a 
ridge  rising  high  above  the  blue  Bedfordshire  plain,  in 
the  midst  of  which  a  spire  rising  out  of  a  little  drift  of 


CHURCHYARD  OF  ST.  ANNE,  SOHO. 


smoke  indicates  the  town  of  Bedford.  On  one  of  the 
highest  points  of  the  ridge  a  cross  raised  on  steps 
marks  the  site  of  the  royal  residence  where  Katherine 
of  Arragon  lived  for  most  of  her  semi-widowhood,  and 
where  Anne  Boleyn  shot  stags  in  a  green  velvet  train, 

^  From    Walks  in  London." 


414 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


The  later  house,  approached  on  the  garden  side  by 
a  narrow  downhill  avenue  half  a  mile  long,  is  in  the 
old  French  style,  with  posts  and  chains,  broad  steps 
widening  at  the  top,  and  a  perron.  .  .  .  The  Duchess, 
at  eighty-four,  talked  most  pleasantly  and  interestingly 
all  evening.  Lady  Wensleydale,  in  her  high  cap  and 
large  chair,  with  her  sweet  face  and  expression,  sat  by 
like  an  old  picture.  There  is  a  picture  of  her  thus,  by 
Pointer,  surrounded  by  great  white  azaleas,  but  it  does 
not  do  her  justice. 

^'Yesterday  I  drove  with  James,  Mildred,  and  Cecil 
Lowther  to  Wrest.  It  is  a  most  stately  place,  one 
of  the  stateliest  I  have  ever  seen.  The  gardens  were 
all  laid  out  by  Le  Notre,  and  the  house  was  of  that 
period.  Lord  De  Grey  pulled  down  the  house,  and 
found  it  rested  on  no  foundations  whatever,  but  on 
the  bare  ground.  It  was  so  thin,  that  when  the  still- 
room  maid  complained  that  her  room  was  rather  dark, 
the  footman  took  out  his  penknife  and  cut  her  a  square 
hole  for  a  window  in  the  plaster  wall.  CapabiUty 
Brown  was  employed  to  rearrange  the  gardens,  which 
were  thought  hideous  at  one  time ;  but  though  he  spoilt 
so  many  other  places,  he  had  sense  to  admire  the 
work  of  Le  Notre  so  much  here,  that  he  made  no 
alterations,  except  throwing  a  number  of  round  and 
oblong  tanks  into  one  long  canal,  which,  on  the  whole, 
is  rather  an  improvement.  The  modern  house  is  mag- 
nificent, and  Hke  what  Chantilly  must  have  been. 

On  the  vast  flagged  terrace  in  front  of  the  windows 
we  found  Lady  Cowper^  sitting  in  an  old-fashioned 

^  Anne-Florence,  Baroness  Lucas,  Dowager  Countess  Cowper,  elder 
daughter  and  co-heir  of  Thomas  Philip,  Earl  De  Grey.  She  died  in  1880. 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  4I5 

black  silk  dress  and  tight  white  bonnet.  She  has  a 
most  sweet  face,  and  was  very  kind  and  charming  in 
her  manner.  I  walked  with  her  for  a  long  time  on 
the  terrace,  looking  down  on  the  brilliant  gardens, 
and  beyond  them  upon  equally  brilliant  groups  of 
people,  for  it  was  the  annual  meeting  of  the  great 
Bedfordshire  tennis  club,  for  which  she  always  gives 
a  breakfast.  She  told  the  whole  story  of  the  place, 
and  took  me  to  see  all  the  finest  points  of  view  and 
the  great  collection  of  fine  orange-trees  brought  from 
Versailles.  She  greatly  lamented  the  prudishness  of 
her  great-aunt  (Lady  De  Grey),  through  whom  her 
grandmother  had  derived  the  place,  who  thought  most 
of  the  old  French  statues — which,  according  to  the 
custom  of  that  day,  were  made  of  lead — to  be  insufii- 
cently  dressed,  and  so  sold  them  for  the  value  of  the 
metal,  at  the  same  time  that  she  sold  an  incomparable 
collection  of  old  plate,  for  the  same  reason,  for  its 
weight  in  silver.  She  showed  one  of  the  statues, 
backed  by  a  yew  hedge  some  centuries  old.  'That 
poor  lady,  you  see,  was  saved  when  all  the  others 
were  sent  away,  because  she  had  got  a  few  clothes 
on.'  Lord  De  Grey  had  replaced  some  of  the  statues, 
and  Lady  Cowper  herself  had  added  a  most  beautiful 
fountain  from  Carrara,  with  a  very  flat  basin. 

Lady  Cowper  talked  much  of  my  mother  and  the 
'Memorials'  and  of  'my  sister  Lady  Jocelyn.'  She 
spoke  of  the  extreme  quietude  of  her  own  life.  '  A  day 
like  this  (pointing  out  the  crowd  below)  shows  me  that 
what  this  place  wants  is — people^  and  I  never  have 
any.  I  think  I  must  hire  some  puppets  to  walk  about 
and  represent  them.'    There  are  a  number  of  inscrip- 


4i6 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


tions  in  the  grounds  to  different  past-members  of  the 
family  and  their  friends.  Lady  Cowper  said  that 
Lady  Palmerston,  who  was  very  matter-of-fact,  thought 
that  of  course  they  were  buried  there,  and  said, 
'  How  I  do  pity  Anne,  hving  alone  at  Wrest,  sur- 
rounded by  all  those  graves  of  her  family.'  Graves, 
however,  there  are,  but  of  deceased  dogs,  a  regular 
burial-ground,  with  headstones  like  those  in  a  church- 
yard, surrounded  by  a  wall  of  clipped  yew. 

I  was  very  glad  to  find  Henry  Cowper,  who  showed 
me  the  rooms,  which  were  full  of  people  for  the 
'  breakfast/  but  I  saw  the  two  great  Sir  Joshuas, 
which  are  magnificent,  especially  that  of  Lady  Lucas 
and  Lady  Grantham,  as  very  young  girls,  with  a 
bird. 

In  the  evening  at  Ampthill  I  told  the  story  of 
Mary  -  Eleanor,  Lady  Strathmore,  to  which  Lady 
Wensleydale  added  her  reminiscence  of  having  been 
told,  at  four  years  old,  of  Stoney  Bowes  having  ^  nailed 
his  wife's  tongue  to  a  table.' " 

A^tgitst  30. — Yesterday  I  drew  with  Miss  Lowther 
at  the  ruins  of  Houghton  Hall,  the  old  home  of  the 
Russells,  where  Philip  Sidney  wrote  verses  under  the 
trees.  It  is  a  very  stately  though  not  a  large  house, 
and  beautiful  in  colour,  from  the  mixture  of  red  brick 
and  yellow-Hchened  stone.  A  great  avenue,  now 
utterly  ruined,  leads  away  from  it  direct  to  Bedford, 
which  lies  six  miles  away  in  the  elm-lined  plain.  It 
was  deserted  because  Lord  Tavistock,  returning  from 
hunting,  was  thrown  from  his  horse  and  killed  on  the 
spot  in  the  presence  of  his  wife,  who  was  waiting  for 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


him  on  the  doorstep :  the  family  could  never  bear  to 
live  there  again. ^ 

''After  luncheon,  I  walked  with  the  old  Duchess  in 
the  avenue.  She  described  being  couched.  '  Did  you 
take  chloroform  ?  ' — '  Oh,  certainly  not :  no  such  thing : 
I  should  not  have  thought  of  it.  Don^t  you  know  that 
couching  is  a  very  dangerous  operation  ?  the  very 
slightest  movement  might  be  fatal  to  it.  I  did  not 
know  what  might  happen  under  chloroform,  but  I  knew 
that  /  should  never  flinch  if  I  had  my  senses,  and  I 
never  did :  and  in  three  weeks,  though  I  was  still 
bandaged  up,  I  was  out  walking/ 

'''What  was  worse  than  becoming  blind  in  my 
case,'  said  the  Duchess,  '  was  breaking  my  knee-pan,  for 
then,  3^ou  know,  one  bone  goes  up  and  the  other  goes 
down,  and  you  never  really  have  the  use  of  your  knee 
again.' 

"  '  And  yet  here  you  are  walking,  Duchess.' 

"  '  Yes,  certainly  /  am.  Prescott  Hewitt  said  I  never 
should  walk  again,  and  I  said  "  Yes,  I  should," — and  he 
answered,  "  Ah  !  well,  with  you  perhaps  it  is  different ; 
you  belong  to  a  family  that  have  got  a  will ;  "  and  I 
walk,  but  I  walk  by  the  sheer  force  of  zvilL'' 

"The  Duchess  said  she  remembered  old  Lady 
Penrhyn  and  her  pugs,  and  their  being  dressed  like 
children,  and  keeping  a  footman,  and  having  a  key  of 
Grosvenor  Square. 

"  In  the  evening  I  drove  with   Mr.   Lowther  to 

1  P.S, — The  unpublished  letters  of  Lady  Mary  Cooke  show  that  this 
local  tradition  is  incorrect.  Lord  Tavistock's  accident  occurred  far 
away,  and  he  lingered  afterwards  for  three  weeks  ;  but  it  is  true  that  the 
family  never  lived  at  Houghton  after  his  death. 

VOL.  IV.  2  D 


4i8 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


Haynes,  till  lately  written  Hawnes,  the  fine  old  place 
of  Lord  John  Thynne  (Sub-Dean  of  Westminster), 
which  he  inherited  from  his  uncle,  Lord  Carteret. 
We  met  the  old  man  riding  in  his  park,  and  so  much 
taken  up  with  a  sick  cow  that  he  almost  ignored  us. 
But  when  we  had  walked  round  by  the  charming  old- 
fashioned  gardens,  we  found  him  waiting  for  us  on  the 
garden  doorstep,  all  courtesy  and  kindness.  Several 
sons  and  daughters-in-law  dropped  in  to  tea  in  a  kind 
of  passage-room,  but  Lord  John  took  me  to  see  all  the 
curiosities  of  the  house  himself,  and  warmed  up  over 
them  greatly.  There  is  a  most  noble  staircase  and  a 
very  fine  collection  of  family  portraits.  In  the  drawing- 
room  is  that  of  Lady  Ann  Carteret  in  a  white  satin 
dress,  which  she  always  w^ore,  and  is  always  remem- 
bered still  as  '  The  White  Lady.^  Her  husband  was 
Jack  Spencer,  of  whom  there  is  also  a  fine  picture.  His 
grandmother,  Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  one  day 
said  to  him  suddenly,  'Jack,  you  must  marry,  and  I 
will  give  you  a  list  of  the  ladies  you  may  propose  to.' — 
[  Very  well,  grannie,^  he  said,  and  he  proposed  to  the 
first  on  the  list.  When  he  came  back  with  his  wife 
from  their  wedding  tour  they  went  to  pay  their  respects 
to  the  old  lady.  '  Well,  now,'  she  said,  '  I  am  the  root 
and  you  are  only  the  branches,  and  therefore  you  must 
always  pay  me  a  great  deal  of  deference.' — ^  That  is 
all  very  well,'  said  Jack  impertinently,  '  but  I  think  the 
branches  would  flourish  a  great  deal  better  if  the  root 
was  under  ground.' 

''There  is  a  great  collection  of  small  treasures  at 
Haynes — snuff-boxes  of  royal  persons,  of  Lord 
Chesterfield,  &c.,  and  one  with  a  portrait  of  a  lady 


i876] 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


419 


ancestress, — ^  not  a  good  woman,  she  had  nothing  but 
her  beauty/ — which  takes  off  and  puts  on  a  mask. 
But  the  great  rehcof  all  is,  in  its  own  old  shagreen  case, 
the  famous  Essex  ring — a  gem  beautifully  set.  With  it 
is  a  most  interesting  letter  from  Weigall,  the  famous 
jeweller,  explaining  a  great  number  of  reasons  why  it 
must  be  the  ring.  There  is  also  the  pedigree  of  the 
ring,  which  came  through  the  hands  of  a  great  number 
of  females — heiresses. 

To-day  the  Duchess  (Dowager  of  Cleveland)  has 
been  talking  much  of  the  wicked  Duchess  of  Gordon, 
her  ancestress.  She  married  all  her  daughters  to 
drunken  Dukes.  One  of  them  had  been  intended  to 
marry  Lord  Brome,  but  his  father,  Lord  CornwaUis, 
objected  on  account  of  the  insanity  in  the  Gordon 
family.  The  Duchess  sent  for  him.  ^  I  understand 
that  you  object  to  my  daughter  marrying  your  son  on 
account  of  the  insanity  in  the  Gordon  family  :  now  I 
can  solemnly  assure  you  that  there  is  not  a  single  drop 
of  Gordon  blood  in  her  veins. ^ 

^^The  Duchess  of  Cleveland  went  out  walking  this 
morning  in  beating  rain  and  bitter  wind — blind,  broken- 
kneed,  and  eighty-four  as  she  is.  ^Well,  you  are  a 
brave  woman.  Duchess,'  some  one  said  as  she  came  in. 
'  You  need  not  take  the  trouble  to  tell  me  that :  I  know 
that  I  am  a  brave  woman/  she  answered. 

Old  Miss  Thornton  called — Lady  Leven's  sister. 
She  talked  much  of  the  misuse  of  charitable  funds  in 
dinners  to  directors,  payment  of  matrons,  ex-matrons, 
&c.,  and  said,  ^  There  reall}^  ought  to  be  a  society  formed 
for  the  demolition  of  charitable  institutions/ 

*^At   dinner    the    Duchess   vehemently  inveighed 


420 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


against  the  deterioration  of  the  times.  ^  Was  there 
ever  anything  so  ridiculous  and  uncalled-for  as  a 
school-feast  ?  ' — ^  But  it  is  such  a  pleasure  to  the 
children.' — '  Pleasure  to  them  !  In  my  days  people 
were  not  always  thinking  how  children  were  to  be 
amused.  Children  were  able  to  amuse  themselves  in 
my  day.  It  is  not  only  with  the  lower  classes  :  all 
classes  are  the  same — the  same  utterly  demoralising 
system  of  indulgence  everywhere.  Why  are  not  the 
children  kept  at  home  to  learn  to  wash  and  sew  and  do 
their  duty  ?  ' — '  But  the  school-feast  is  only  one  day  in 
the  year.' — ^  One  day  in  the  year!  Fiddlesticks!  don't 
tell  me.  I  tell  you  it's  utterly  demoralising.  Why,  if 
the  feast  is  only  one  day,  it  unhinges  them  for  ten  days 
before  and  ten  days  after. 

^  Formerly,  too,  people  knew  how  to  live  like  gentle- 
men and  ladies.  When  they  built  houses,  they  built 
houses  fit  to  live  in,  not  things  in  which  the  walls  were 
too  thin  to  allow  of  the  windows  having  any  shutters. 
.  .  .  Why,  now   people  do  not  even  know  how  to 

keep  a  great  house.    Look  at   ,  do  you  think  she 

knows  it,  with  her  alternate  weeks  for  receiving 
visitors.  That  is  not  what  ought  to  be ;  that  is  not 
hospitaUty.  A  great  house  ought  to  be  open  always. 
The  master  and  mistress  never  ought  to  feel  it  a 
burthen,  and  if  it.  was  properly  managed,  they  never 
would.  There  should  always  be  a  foundation  of 
guests  in  the  house,  a  few  relations  or  intimate  friends, 
w^ho  would  be  quite  at  home  there,  and  who  would 
be  civil  and  go  out  to  walk  or  drive,  or  do  whatever 
might  be  necessary  to  amuse  the  others.  There  ought 
to  be  no  gene  of  any  kind,  and  there  ought  to  be 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS    AND    SOCIETY  42  I 

plenty  of  equipages — that  should  be  quite  indis- 
pensable.' 

'^The  conversation  fell  upon  Rogers  the  poet.  ^  Mr. 
Rogers  came  here  once/  said  Lady  Wensleydale,  '  and 
I  did  not  like  him  ;  I  thought  him  so  ill-bred.  He  came 
with  the  Duchess  of  Bedford  of  that  time,  who  was  the 
most  good-natured  woman  in  the  world,  and  when  he 
went  out  into  the  park  and  came  in  quite  late  for 
luncheon,  she  said  he  must  have  some,  and  went  into 
the  dining-room  herself  to  see  that  he  had  it  properly, 
and  while  he  was  eating  cold  beef,  mixed  him  herself  a 
kind  of  salad  of  oil  and  vinegar,  which  she  brought  to 
him.  He  waited  a  moment,  then  took  up  a  piece  of 
the  beef  in  his  fingers,  rolled  it  in  the  sauce,  and, 
walking  round  the  table,  popped  it  into  the  Duchess's 
mouth.  She  went  into  the  drawing-room  afterwards 
and  complained  to  his  friend  Luttrell  about  it,  What 
can  I  have  done  that  Mr.  Rogers  should  treat  me  so  ?" 
Luttrell  said,  I  have  known  Rogers  for  sixty  years, 
and  have  never  yet  been  able  to  account  for  any  one  of 
his  vagaries." 

'  Rogers  and  Luttrell  were  great  friends,  though 
they  always  quarrelled.  When  they  walked  out 
together,  they  never  walked  side  by  side,  but  always 
one  behind  the  other. 

^  Rogers  met  Lord  Dudley  at  one  of  the  foreign 
watering-places,  and  began  in  his  vain  way,  What  a 
terrible  thing  it  is  how  one's  fame  pursues  one,  and 
that  one  can  never  get  away  from  one's  own  identity  ! 
Now  I  sat  by  a  lady  the  other  night,  and  she  began, 
*  I  feel  sure  you  must  be  Mr.  Rogers." — ^^And  were 
you  ? "  said  Lord  Dudley,  looking  up  into  his  face 


42  2  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

quite  innocently.  It  was  the  greatest  snub  the  poet 
ever  had. 

'  Rogers  hated  Monckton  Milnes.  He  was  too 
much  of  a  rival.  If  Milnes  began  to  talk,  Rogers 
would  look  at  him  sourly,  and  say,  Oh,  you  want  to 
hold  forth,  do  you  ?  "  and  then,  turning  to  the  rest  of  the 
party,  I  am  looking  for  my  hat ;  Mr.  Milnes  is  going 
to  entertain  the  company." ' 

Hohnhurstj  Sept.  i. — I  had  rather  dreaded  the 
tete-a-tete  journey  with  the  Duchess  to-day,  and  truly 
it  was  a  long  one,  for  we  had  an  hour  to  wait  at 
Ampthill  Station,  and  then  missed  the  express  at 
Bletchley.  When  we  first  got  into  the  carriage  the 
Duchess  said,  '  Well,  now,  I  am  going  to  be  quiet  and 
rest  my  eyes,*  which  I  thought  was  a  hint  that  I  was 
to  take  my  book ;  but  very  soon  she  got  bored 
and  said,  '  I  can't  see,  and  am  obliged  to  go  on 
asking  the  names  of  the  stations  for  want  of  being 
amused ; '  so  then  I  was  obliged  to  talk  to  her  all  the 
rest  of  the  way. 

^^At  Ampthill  she  told  me  how  she  was  going  to 
London  to  meet  Admiral  Inglefield,  who  was  going  to 
help  her  to  ^  pick  a  child  out  of  the  gutter.'  ^  That  child,' 
she  said,  ^  will  some  day  be  Earl  Powlett.  Lord 
Powlett  took  a  wager  that  he  would  run  away  with 
the  lady-love  of  one  of  his  brother-officers,  and  he  did 
runaway  with  her;  but  she  made  it  a  condition  that  he 
should  marry  her  before  a  Registrar,  which  he  believed 
was  illegal,  but  it  was  not,  and  they  were  really 
married.  Her  only  child,  a  boy,  was  brought  up  in 
the  gutter.    His  name  is  Hinton,  and  he  is  present- 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


able/  which  his  wife  is  not,  for  she  is  a  figurante 
at  the  opera ;  but  she  gets  more  than  the  other 
danseuses,  because  she  has  the  courage  to  stand  un- 
supported upon  a  tight-rope,  which  the  others  have 
not.  Powlett  offered  his  son  ^400  if  he  would  go 
away  from  England  and  never  come  back  again,  but  he 
refused,  so  then  he  would  only  give  him  ^100.  He 
lives  by  acting  at  small  theatres,  but  sometimes  he 
does  not  live,  but  starves.  He  had  four  children,  but 
one  is  dead.  It  is  the  eldest  I  mean  to  take  away  and 
place  with  a  clergyman  and  his  wife,  that  he  may  learn 
something  of  being  a  gentleman.  I  shall  undertake 
him  for  three  years,  then  I  shall  see  what  he  is  likely 
to  be  fit  for.  If  I  live  so  long,  I  can  settle  it ;  if  not, 
I  must  leave  the  means  for  it.  Facts  are  stranger 
than  fiction.^ 

At  the  stations,  the  Duchess  was  perfectly  furious 
at  the  bonnets  she  saw.  ^  If  any  respectable  persons 
had  gone  to  sleep  twenty  years  ago  and  woke  up  now, 
they  would  think  it  was  Bedlam  let  loose.'  She  said 
how  Count  Streletski,  who  had  travelled  everywhere, 
said  there  was  no  country  in  which  people  were 
satisfied  with  nature :  if  tall,  they  wished  to  make 
themselves  short ;  if  short,  tall :  if  they  were  light,  they 
wished  to  be  dark,  and  vice  versa.  She  talked  of  the 
peculiarities  of  vanity  in  different  people — how  the 
first  Lady  Westmoreland  made  the  coiffeur  wait  and 
touch  her  up  when  she  was  in  the  carriage. 

^  Lord  Hinton  afterwards  used  to  play  a  barrel-organ  in  the  streets 
of  London,  with  an  inscription  over  it  in  large  letters,  I  am  the  only 
Viscount  Hinton."  He  would  play  it  for  hours  opposite  the  windows 
of  Lord  Powlett  in  Berkeley  Square. 


424  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1B76 

'^The  Duchess  parted  from  me  at  Euston  Station, 
with  a  cordial  invitation  to  Osterley.'^ 

Sept,  27. — 1  have  had  a  constant  succession  of 
visitors  at  my  Httle  Holmhurst. 

'^A  singular  subject  of  interest  has  been  Mr.  Free- 
man's virulent  letters  against  and  about  me.  He 
seems  insane  on  the  subject  of  creating  imaginary 
injuries.^  Certainly  it  is  a  little  annoying  to  be  called 
a  thief  in  the  public  papers,  though  it  may  be  useful 
for  one's  morals.  However,  ^  Experience  is  the  best 
teacher,  only  the  school  fees  are  heavy.'" 

Conington  Castle^  Sept.  29. — I  came  here  yester- 
day to  old.  Mr.  Heathcote's.  It  is  a  low-lying  place  in 
the  Fens,  close  to  what  was  once  Whitlesea  Mere,  but 
is  now  drained,  only  patches  of  reeds  and  marshy 
ground  remaining  here  and  there.  The  house  is  near 
the  site  of  an  old  castle,  but  its  only  claim  to  be  called 
a  castle  itself  arises  from  its  having  been  partly  built 
out  of  the  ruins  of  Fotheringhay,  from  which  a  row 
of  arches  remain.  To  ordinary  eyes  the  country 
is  frightful,  but  Mr.  Heathcote,  as  an  artist,  sees 
much  beauty — which  really  does  exist — in  the  long 
unbroken  lines  where  the  mere  once  was,  and  the 
faint  blue  shadows  in  the  soft  distances.  And  he  has 
preserved  very  interesting  memorials  of  all  that  the 
district  has  been,  within  his  memory,  in  an  immense 
series  of  sketches  of  the  mere  in  summer,  and  in 
winter,  when  covered  with  people  skating ;  and  of  the 

^  Mr.  E.  A.  Freeman — whose  lengthy  and  disproportionate  writings 
were  never  wholly  without  interest — died  March  1892. 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


425 


mere  life — its  fisheries,  wild  birds,  and  its  curious 
draining  mills,  now  all  of  the  past. 

'^We  have  been  to  draw  at  Peterborough,  a  wonder- 
fully foreign-looking  town,  more  so,  I  think,  than  any 
other  in  England.  I  saw  Bishop  Jeune's  grave :  it 
almost  looks  old  now,  and  it  really  is  many  years 
since  we  lost  him  ;  yet,  on  looking  back,  the  time  seems 
nothing,  so  quickly  does  life  pass,  and  living  become 
out-living." 

Sept.  30. — We  have  been  to  Hinchinbroke.  Lord 
and  Lady  Sandwich  were  alone.  She  was  the  Lady 
Blanche  Egerton  ^  of  my  long  ago  Chillingham  days. 
Lord  Sandwich  took  me  all  over  the  pictures.  The 
best  is  that  of  Lady  Castlemaine,  afterwards  Duchess 
of  Cleveland,  very  young  and  lovely,  with  all  her  hair 
down.  There  is  also  a  fine  full-length  of  Charles  II., 
and  a  curious  picture  of  Charles  II.  of  Spain  by 
Herrera.  By  Gainsborough  there  is  a  beautiful  por- 
trait of  Miss  Martha  Ray.  Mr.  Hackman,  who  saw 
her  with  Lord  Sandwich,  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  took 
orders  in  order  to  be  able  to  marry  her.  Afterwards, 
when  he  saw  her  in  Covent  Garden  receiving  the 
attentions  of  somebody  else,  he  shot  her  in  a  fit  of 
jealousy,  and  suffered  for  it  at  Tyburn.  In  the  ^  Ship 
Room  ^  is  an  interesting  picture  by  Vanderwelt  of  the 
naval  action  in  which  the  first  Lord  Sandwich  died. 
His  ship  was  fired  by  a  fireship  and  blown  up,  and  he 
was  drowned.  Ten  days  afterwards  his  body  was 
recovered,  and  the  garter  and  medal  found  upon  it  are 
preserved  in  a  glass  case  near  the  picture. 

^  Blanche,  Countess  of  Sandwich,  died  March  1894. 


426  THE   STORY   OF  MY   LIFE  [1876 

The  rooms  at  Hinchinbroke  are  very  pleasant  and 
livable,  but  the  oldest  parts  of  the  house  are  burnt 
and  the  oak  staircase  is  painted.  Near  the  foot  of  it, 
the  skeletons  of  two  prioresses  (for  the  house  was 
once  a  monastery)  were  found  in  their  stone  coffins, 
and  were  buried  again  in  the  same  place  !  Lord 
Sandwich  showed  us  the  MSS.  of  the  great  Lord 
Sandwich — journals  and  letters  in  many  volumes; 
also  many  letters  of  George  III.,  showing  his  great 
interest  in  very  minute  public  matters.  He  has  also  a 
splendid  collection  of  Elzevirs. 

When  Lady  Sandwich  was  going  to  visit  a  school 
the  next  day.  Miss  Mary  Boyle  heard  the  mistress  say, 
^  Now,  girls,  to-morrow  my  Lady  is  coming,  and  so, 
recollect,  pocket-handkerchiefs  must  be  the  order  of  the 
day  :  there  must  be  no  sniffling,'' 

Coningtojij  Oct.  i. — This  is  one  of  the  clockwork 
houses,  with  a  monotonous  routine  of  life  suited  to  the 
flat  featureless  country.  To-day,  after  church,  the 
male  part  of  the  family  set  off  to  walk  a  certain  six 
miles,  which  they  always  walk  after  church,  and,  when 
we  reached  a  certain  bridge,  the  female  part  said, 
'  Here  we  turn  back ;  this  is  the  place  where  we  turn 
every  Sunday  through  the  year :  we  always  go  as  far 
as  this,  and  we  never  go  any  farther.'^' 

Sarsden  House ^  Chipping  Norton^  Oct.  4. — I  came 
here  on  Monday.  At  Paddington  Station  I  met  Lady 
Darnley  and  Lady  Kathleen  Bligh,  and  a  procession  of 
carriages  in  waiting  showed  that  a  large  party  was 
expected  by  the  same  train.    It  came  dropping  in 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  427 

round  the  five-o'clock  tea-table — Lord  and  Lady 
Denbigh;  Lord  and  Lady  Aberdare  and  a  daughter; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  A.  Symonds;  two  young  Plunketts ; 
George,  Lady  Constance,  and  Madeleine  Shaw- 
Lefevre ;  Lord  Morton.  ...  I  like  Lord  Denbigh  very 
much,  and  feel  sure  that  no  Roman  Catholic  plotter 
would  induce  him  to  do  what  he  did  not  believe 
to  be  right,  or  say  what  he  did  not  beheve  to  be 
true. 

^'On  Tuesday  afternoon  I  drove  to  Heythorp  with 
Lady  Darnley,  Lady  Denbigh,  and  Lady  Aberdare. 
A  long  unfinished  avenue  leads  up  to  the  very  stately 
house,  which  has  been  well  restored  by  Albert 
Brassey. 

In  the  evening  Lord  Denbigh  told  us  : — 
'  Dr.  Playfair,  physician  at  Florence,  went  to  the 
garden  of  a  villa  to  see  some  friends  of  his.  Sitting 
on  a  seat  in  the  garden,  he  saw  two  ladies  he  knew ; 
between  them  was  a  third  lady  dressed  in  grey,  of  very 
peculiar  appearance.  Walking  round  the  seat,  Dr. 
Playfair  found  it  very  difficult  to  see  her  features.  In 
a  farther  part  of  the  garden  he  met  another  man  he 
knew.  He  sta3^ed  behind  the  seat  and  asked  his  friend 
to  walk  round  and  see  if  he  could  make  out  who  the 
odd-looking  lady  was.  When  he  came  back  he  said, 
Of  course  I  could  not  make  her  out,  because  when  I 
came  in  front  of  her,  her  face  was  turned  towards 
you.''  Dr.  Playfair  then  walked  up  to  the  ladies,  and 
as  he  did  so,  the  central  figure  disappeared.  The 
others  expressed  surprise  that  Dr.  Playfair,  having  seen 
them,  had  not  joined  them  sooner.  He  asked  who  the 
lady  was  who  had  been  sitting  between  them.  They 


428 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


assured  him  that  there  had  never  been  any  such 
person. 

'The  next  morning,  Dr.  Playfair  went  early  to  see 
the  old  gardener  of  the  villa,  and  asked  him  if  there  was 
any  tradition  about  the  place.  He  said,  Yes,  there 
is  a  story  of  a  lady  dressed  in  grey,  who  appears  once 
in  every  twenty-five  years,  and  the  singular  part  is 
that  she  has  no  face."  Dr.  Playfair  asked  when  she 
had  appeared  last.  ''Well,  I  remember  perfectly;  it 
was  twenty-five  years  ago,  and  the  time  is  about 
coming  round  for  her  to  appear  again."' 

"  Lord  Aberdare  said  that  when  Edward  Lear  was 
drawing  in  Albania,  he  was  in  perfect  despair  over  the 
troops  of  little  ruffians  who  mobbed  him  and  would 
not  go  away.  Suddenly  his  india-rubber  tumbled 
down  and  bobbed  down  some  steps — bob-bob-bob. 
The  boys  all  ran  away  as  hard  as  they  could,  scream- 
ing, '  Thaitan  !  Thaitan  ! '  and  never  came  back  again. 

"A  delightful  old  Mrs.  Stewart  has  arrived  from 
Scotland.  I  sat  by  her  at  dinner.  She  talked  much 
of  Mrs.  Grote.  She  described  an  interview  Mrs.  Grote 
had  with  Madame  George  Sand.  She  said  to  Madame 
Sand  that  it  was  a  pity  she  did  not  employ  her  great 
powers  for  the  leavening  and  mellowing  of  mankind, 
as  Miss  Austen  had  done.  '  Madame,'  said  Madame 
Sand,  *'je  ne  suis  pas  philosophe,  je  ne  suis  pas  mora- 
liste,  et  je  suis  romanciere.' " 

"  Oct.  4. — While  Madeleine  has  been  drawing  my 
portrait,  Mrs.  Stewart  has  talked  delightfully^,  contra- 
dicting the  theory  of  De  Tocqueville  that  '  the  charm- 
ing art  of  conversation — to  touch  and  set  in  motion 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


429 


a  thousand  thoughts  without  dwelling  tiresomely  on 
any  one — is  amongst  the  lost  arts,  and  can  only  be 
sought  for  in  History  Hut.'^  She  described  her  visit 
to  Ober  Ammergau.  Her  anxiety  to  go  was  intense, 
but  all  the  means  seemed  to  fail.  The  Princess  Mary 
of  Hanover  and  the  Grand  Duchess  Ehzabeth  (to 
whom  she  had  intended  to  annex  herself)  walked. 
But,  to  be  in  waiting  upon  them,  went  Baron  Klenck, 
her  Hanoverian  son-in-law,  and  he  came  back  greatly 
impressed,  and  said  to  his  wife  when  he  came  in,  ^  If 
thy  mother  still  wishes  to  go,  in  God's  name  let  her 
set  forth  ; '  and  she  went.  She  described  the  life  at 
the  village — the  simplicity,  the  cheapness ;  then,  in 
the  play,  the  awful  agony  of  the  twenty  minutes  of  the 
Crucifixion,  the  sublimity  of  the  Ascension.  ^  I  have 
seen  hundreds  of  ^'ascensions"  on  the  stage  and  else- 
where, but  I  have  never  seen  anything  like  that 
simple  re-presentation  J 

''At  luncheon  Mrs.  Stewart  described  a  sitting  with 
Mrs.  Guppy  the  spiritualist.  Count  Bathyany,  her 
daughter,  and  others  were  present.  They  were  asked 
what  sort  of  manifestation  they  would  have.  They 
declared  they  would  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less  than 
a  ghost.  There  was  a  round  hole  in  the  table  with  a 
lid  upon  it.  Presently  the  lid  began  to  quiver,  gradu- 
ally it  was  thrown  on  one  side,  and  a  hand  came  up 
violently  agitating  itself  '  Mrs.  Guppy  said,  "  Dear 
spirit"  (we  are  always  very  affectionate  you  know), 
"  would  you  like  the  glass  ?  "  and  a  great  tall  fern-glass 
was  put  over  the  place :  otherwise,  4  should  have 
touched  that  hand.  Then,  inside  the  glass  (but  we 
^  Letters  of  Alexis  de  Tocqueville  to  Mrs.  Grote. 


430 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


could  not  touch  it,  you  know)  came  up  something 
wrapped  in  muslin  :  Mrs.  Guppy  said  it  was  a  head. 
Afterwards  we  were  asked  to  go  down  to  supper: 
there  was  quite  a  handsome  collation.  A  young 
American  who  was  with  us  was  so  disgusted  with 
what  he  had  seen  that  he  would  touch  nothing — 
would  take  neither  bread  nor  salt  in  that  house.  I 
was  weak :  I  did  not  quite  like  to  refuse,  and  I  ate  a 
few  strawberries.  Of  course,  as  far  as  the  moral 
protest  went,  I  might  as  well  have  eaten  a  whole 
plateful.  Bathyany  made  a  very  good  supper.  He 
took  a  rose  away  with  him  for  his  Countess,  for  at 
the  end  of  our  seance  quantities  of  flowers  appeared, 
we  knew  not  w^hence,  quite  fresh,  dewy,  beautiful 
flowers :  they  appeared  on  the  table  close  to  Count 
Bathyany. 

'^^The  spirits  are  very  indulgent.  They  think  we 
are  in  better  humour  if  our  spirits  are  kept  up.  After 
I  have  been  sitting  there  for  some  time  they  generally 
say,  Harriet  is  exhausted;  let  her  have  a  glass  of 
wine."  Then  sometimes  they  give  us  nicknames — 
beautiful  nicknames ;  my  daughter  they  called  Muta- 
bihty,"  and  me  they  named    Distrust." ' 

^^We  have  been  a  long  drive  to  a  charming  old 
house,  Chastleton,  belonging  to  Miss  Whitmore  Jones, 
who  lives  there  alone,  ^  le  dernier  rejeton  de  sa  famille.' 
It  is  in  a  hollow  with  fine  old  trees  around  it,  manor- 
house,  church,  arched  gateway,  and  dovecot  on  arches 
grouped  close  together,  all  of  a  delicate  pink-yellow- 
grey.  Inside  is  a  banqueting  hall  with  very  fine  old 
panelling  and  curious  furniture,  and  upstairs  a  long 
gallery  and  nobly  panelled  drawing-room." 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS    AND    SOCIETY  43  I 

Sarsden,  Oct.  5. — Last  night  Mrs.  Stewart  talked 
much  of  Hanover  and  her  hfe  there.  Her  daughter 
was  lady-in-waiting  to  the  Queen.  She  described 
how  all  the  royal  family  might  have  their  property 
back  at  once,  but  the  King  would  make  no  concession 
— ^  God  has  given  me  my  crown  ;  I  will  only  give  it 
back  to  Him.' 

Mrs.  Stewart  was  with  the  Queen  and  Princess 
for  five  months  at  Herrenhausen  after  the  King  left 
for.Langensalza,  when  Mike  a  knight,  he  desired  to  be 
placed  in  the  front  of  his  army,  where  all  his  soldiers 
could  see  him,  and  where  he  was  not  satisfied  till  he 
felt  the  bullets  all  whizzing  around  him.'  The  people 
in  Hanover  said  he  had  run  away.  When  the  Queen 
heard  that,  she  and  Princess  Marie  went  down  to  the 
place  and  walked  about  there,  and,  when  the  people 
pressed  round  her,  said,  'The  King  is  gone  with  his 
army  to  fight  for  his  people ;  but  I  am  here  to  stay  with 
you — to  stay  with  you  till  he  comes  back.'  But  alas  ! 
she  did  not  know  ! 

'^All  that  time  in  Herrenhausen  they  were  alone: 
only  Mrs.  Stewart  and  her  daughter  went  out  occasion- 
ally to  bring  in  the  news ;  the  others  never  went  out. 
At  last  the  confinement  became  most  irksome  to  the 
Princesses.  They  entreated  Mrs.  Stewart  to  persuade 
mama  to  let  them  go  out.  Mrs.  Stewart  urged  it  to 
the  Queen,  who  said,  'But  the  Princesses  have  all  that 
they  need  here;  they  ought  to  be  satisfied.' — ^Pardon 
me,  your  Majesty,'  said  Mrs.  Stewart ;  '  the  Princesses 
have  not  all  they  need  ;  it  is  necessary  for  young  people 
to  have  some  change.'  'So,'  said  Mrs.  Stewart,  'at 
last  the  Queen  saw  that  it  was  well,  and  she  consented. 


432  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1876 

She  said,  We  will  not  take  one  of  our  own  carriages, 
that  would  attract  too  much  attention,  but  we  will  take 
Harty 's  — that  is,  my  daughter's —  ^'  carriage,  and  we  will 
drive  in  that ;  "  for  the  Queen  had  given  Harty  a  little 
low  carriage  and  a  pony.  So  they  set  off — the  Queen, 
Princess  Marie,  and  only  the  coachman  besides.  And 
when  they  had  gone  some  way  up  the  hills,  the  pony 
fretted  under  the  new  traces  and  broke  them,  and, 
before  they  knew  where  they  were,  it  was  away  over 
the  hedges  and  fields,  and  they  were  left  in  the  lane 
with  the  broken  carriage.  Two  Prussians  officers  rode 
up — for  the  Prussians  were  already  in  Hanover — and 
seeing  two  ladies,  beautiful  ladies  too  (for  the  Queen 
is  still  very  handsome),  in  that  forlorn  state,  they  dis- 
mounted, and,  like  gentlemen  as  they  were,  they  came 
up  hat  in  hand,  and  offered  their  assistance.  The 
Queen  said,  Oh,  thank  you  ;  you  see  what  has  hap- 
pened to  us :  our  coachman  has  gone  after  the  pony, 
which  has  run  away,  and  no  doubt  he  will  soon  come 
back,  so  we  will  just  wait  his  return."  But  the  coachman 
did  not  come  back,  and  the  gentlemen  were  so  polite, 
they  would  not  go  away,  so  at  last  the  Queen  and 
Princess  had  to  set  out  to  return  home ;  and  the  officers 
walked  with  them,  never  having  an  idea  who  they 
were,  and  never  left  them  till  they  reached  the  gates 
of  Herrenhausen.  So  the  Queen  came  in  and  said. 
You  see  what  has  happened,  my  dear ;  you  see  what 
a  dreadful  thing  has  befallen  us :  we  will  none  of  us 
ever  try  going  out  again,"  and  we  never  did. 

*  We  used  to  go  and  walk  at  night  in  those  great 
gardens  of  Herrenhausen,  in  which  the  Electress 
Sophia  died.    The  Queen  talked  then,  God  bless  her. 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


433 


of  all  her  sorrows.  We  often  did  not  come  in  till  the 
morning,  for  the  Queen  could  not  sleep.  But,  even 
in  our  great  sorrow  and  misery,  Nature  would  assert 
herself,  and  when  we  came  in,  we  ate  up  everything 
there  was.  Generally  I  had  something  in  my  room, 
and  the  Queen  had  generally  something  in  hers, 
though  that  was  only  bread  and  strawberries,  and  it 
was  not  enough  for  us,  for  we  were  so  very  hungry. 

'  One  night  the  Queen  made  an  aide-de-camp  take 
the  key,  and  we  went  to  the  mausoleum  in  the  grounds. 
I  shall  never  forget  that  awful  walk,  Harty  carrying 
a  single  lanthorn  before  us,  or  the  stillness  when  we 
reached  the  mausoleum,  or  the  white  light  shining 
upon  it  and  the  clanging  of  the  door  as  it  opened. 
And  we  all  went  in,  and  we  knelt  and  prayed  by  each 
of  the  coffins  in  turn.  The  Queen  and  Princess  Marie 
knelt  in  front,  and  my  daughter  and  I  knelt  behind ; 
and  we  prayed — oh !  so  earnestly — out  of  the  deep 
anguish  of  our  sorrow-stricken  hearts.  And  then  we 
went  up  to  the  upper  floor  where  the  statues  are. 
And  there  lay  the  beautiful  Queen,  the  Princess  of 
Solms,  in  her  still  loveliness,  and  there  lay  the  old 
King,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  with  the  moonlight 
shining  on  him,  wrapped  in  his  mihtary  cloak.  And 
when  the  Queen  saw  him,  she,  who  had  been  so  calm 
before,  sobbed  violently  and  hid  herself  against  me — 
for  she  knows  that  I  also  have  suffered — and  said  in 
a  voice  of  pathos  which  I  can  never  forget,  Oh,  he 
was  so  cruel  to  me,  so  very,  very  cruel  to  me."  And 
after  that  we  walked  or  hngered  on  the  garden-seats 
till  daylight  broke. 

'''The  Queen  was  always  longing  to  go  away  to 

VOL.  IV.  2  E 


434 


THE   STORY    OF    MY  LIFE 


her  own  house  at  Marienberg,  and  at  last  she  went. 
She  never  came  back ;  for,  as  soon  as  she  was  gone, 
the  Prussians,  who  had  left  her  alone  whilst  she  was 
there,  stepped  in  and  took  possession  of  everything. 

'  The  Queen  is  a  noble,  loving  woman,  but  she 
is  more  admirable  as  a  woman  than  a  queen.  I  have 
known  her  queenly,  however.  When  Count  von 
Walchenstein,  the  Prussian  commandant,  arrived,  he 
desired  an  interview  with  her  Majesty.  He  behaved 
very  properly,  but  as  he  was  going  away — it  was 
partly  from  gaucherie,  I  suppose — he  said,  I  shall 
take  care  that  your  Majesty  is  not  interfered  with 
in  any  way."  Then  our  Queen  rose,  and  in  queenly 
simplicity  she  said,  I  never  expected  it."  He 
looked  so  abashed,  but  she  never  flinched ;  only, 
when  he  was  gone  out  of  the  room,  she  fainted  dead 
away  upon  the  floor. 

'  The  mistake  of  our  Queen  has  been  with  regard 
to  the  Crown  Prince.  She  has  had  too  great  motherly 
anxiety,  and  has  never  sent  out  her  son,  as  the 
Empress  Eugenie  did,  to  learn  his  world  by  acting 
in  it  and  by  suffering  in  it.^ 

^'To-day  Mrs.  Stewart  has  been  talking  much  of 
the  pain  of  age,  of  the  distress  of  being  now  able  to 
do  so  little  for  others,  of  being  ^just  a  creature  crawl- 
ing between  heaven  and  earth. ^  She  also  spoke  much 
of  ^the  comfort  of  experience,^  of  scarcely  an3^thing 
being  quite  utterly  irrevocable;  that  'in  most  things, 
most  crimes  even,  one  can  trail,  trail  oneself  in  the 
dust  before  God  and  man.' 

In  the  morning  Mrs.  Stewart  sat  for  her  portrait 
to  Madeleine,  in  her  picturesque  square  head-dress. 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS    AND    SOCIETY  435 

She  was  pleased  at  being  asked  to  sit.  '  II  faut 
vieillir  etre  heurcuse/  she  said.  She  talked  much 
whilst  she  was  sitting — much  of  Lady  H.^s  insolent 
and  often  unfeeling  sayings.  She  spoke  of  a  doctor 
who  had  the  same  inclination,  and  said  to  her,  '  Ca 
ne  me  repugne  pas  de  dire  les  verites  cruelles.^  Talk- 
ing of  self-respect,  she  quoted  the  maxim  of  Madame 
George  Sand — 

'  Charite  envers  les  autres  ; 
Sincerite  envers  Dieu  ; 
Dignite  envers  soi-meme.' 

And  added,  ^  But  who  should  one  be  well  with  if  not 
with  oneself,  with  whom  one  has  to  live  so  ver}^ 
much.^ 

^'This  morning  Lady  Ducie^s  pet  housemaid  gave 
warning,  because,  she  said.  Lady  Ducie  was  not  so 
sympathetic  to  her  as  she  was  six  weeks  ago.  She 
said  that  as  Lady  Ducie  was  now  not  nearly  so  nice 
to  her  as  she  had  been,  she  should  be  obliged  to  marry 
a  greengrocer  who  had  proposed  to  her. 

In  the  afternoon  we  drove  to  Daylesford — Warren 
Hastings'  so  beloved  home.  It  is  a  very  pretty  place, 
picturesque  modern  cottages  amid  tufted  trees,  and  a 
very  beautiful  small  modern  church  on  a  green.  This 
church  was  built  by  Mr.  Grisewood,  and  supplants  a 
so-called  Saxon  church,  restored  after  a  thousand 
years  of  use  by  Warren  Hastings.  The  inscription 
commemorating  his  restoration  still  remains,  and  ends 
with  the  text — '  For  a  thousand  years  in  thy  sight 
are  but  as  yesterday.'  The  tomb  of  Warren  Hastings, 
a  yellow  urn  on  a  pedestal,  stands  in  the  church- 
yard just  under  the  east  window.    He  left  the  place 


43^  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

to  his  wife's  son  by  her  first  husband,  Count  Imhofif. 
Lady  Ducie  remembers  Countess  Imhoff  coming  to 
visit  her  mother,  always  with  a  great  deal  of  state, 
and  always  dressed  in  white  satin  and  swansdown, 
like  one  of  Romney's  pictures.  Mr.  Grisewood  suc- 
ceeded the  Imhofifs,  and,  when  his  son  became  a 
Roman  CathoHc,  sold  the  place  to  Mr.  Bias.  We 
drove  to  the  house,  which  stands  well — a  comfortable 
yellow  stone  house  in  pretty  grounds,  with  a  clear 
running  stream.  Its  reminiscences  and  the  power  of 
calling  them  up  made  Mrs.  Stewart  speak  with  great 
admiration  of  those  who  'could  find  the  least  bit  of 
bone  and  create  a  mastodon.* 

In  returning,  Mrs.  Stewart  told  the  story  of  Miss 
Genevieve  Ward,  the  actress.  In  early  life  she  was 
travelling  with  her  mother,  when  they  fell  in  with  a 
handsome  young  Russian,  Count  Constant  Guerra. 
He  proposed  to  her,  and  as  the  mother  urged  it, 
thinking  it  a  good  match,  she  married  him  then  and 
there  in  her  mother's  presence,  without  witnesses,  he 
solemnly  promising  to  make  her  his  wife  publicly  as 
soon  as  he  could.  When  he  could,  he  refused  to 
fulfil  his  promise;  but  the  mother  was  an  energetic 
woman,  and  she  appealed  to  the  Czar,  who  forced 
Guerra  to  keep  his  word.  He  said  he  would  do  what 
the  Czar  bade  him,  but  that  his  wife  should  suffer  for 
it  all  her  life.  To  his  amazement,  when  the  day  for 
the  marriage  arrived,  the  bride  appeared  with  her 
mother,  led  to  the  altar  in  a  long  crape  veil  as  to 
a  funeral.  Her  brothers  stood  by  her  with  loaded 
pistols,  and  at  the  door  of  the  church  was  a  carriage 
into  which  she  stepped  as  soon  as  the  ceremony  was 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  437 

over,  and  he  never  saw  her  again.  She  is  Madame 
Constant  Guerra,  and  has  acted  as  '  Guerrabella/ 

^'When  we  came  home,  I  told  a  story  in  Lady 
Ducie's  sitting-room.  Then  Lord  Denbigh  told  how — 
^  *  Sir  John  Acton  (whose  son  was  Lady  Granville's 
first  husband)  was  a  great  friend  of  Lord  Nelson,  who 
was  at  that  time  occupied  in  a  vain  and  hopeless  search 
for  the  French  fleet.^  One  day  Sir  John  was  in  his 
wife's  dressing-room  while  she  was  preparing  for 
dinner.  As  her  French  maid  was  dressing  her,  a 
letter  was  put  into  her  hand,  at  which  she  gave  such 
a  start  that  she  ran  a  pin  she  was  holding  into  Lady 
Acton.  This  caused  Lady  Acton  to  inquire  what  ailed 
her.  She  said  the  letter  was  from  her  brother,  a 
French  sailor,  from  whom  she  had  not  heard  for  a 
long  time,  and  about  whom  she  had  been  anxious. 
Sir  John  Acton,  with  great  presence  of  mind,  offered 
to  read  her  the  letter  while  she  went  on  doing  her 
mistress's  hair.  As  soon  as  he  had  read  it  he  went 
off  to  Lord  Nelson.  The  letter  gave  all  the  informa- 
tion so  long  sought  in  vain,  and  the  battle  of  the  Nile 
was  the  result  of  the  prick  of  a  pin.'  '^ 

Prestbury^  Oct.  6. — It  poured  so  hard  this  morning 
that  I  put  off  leaving  Sarsden  till  late.  Mrs.  Stewart 
again  talked  much  of  the  Hanoverian  Court,  of  the 
Guelph  love  of  doubtful  stories  ;  how  she  saved  up  any 
story  she  heard  for  the  blind  King.    One  day  she  w^as 

^  Sir  John  Acton  was  commander-in-chief  of  the  land  and  sea 
forces  of  Naples,  and  was  for  several  years  Neapolitan  Prime  Minister. 
His  wife  was  the  daughter  of  his  brother,  General  Acton,  and  he  had 
by  her  two  sons  (the  younger  of  whom  became  Cardinal),  and  a 
daughter,  afterwards  Lady  Throckmorton. 


438 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


telling  him  a  story  '  about  Margaret  Bremer's  father '  as 
they  were  driving.  Suddenly  the  horses  started,  and 
the  carriage  was  evidently  going  to  be  upset.  '  Why 
don't  you  go  on  ?  '  said  the  King.  '  Because,  sir,  we  are 
just  going  to  upset.' — ^That  is  the  coachman's  affair,' 
said  the  King ;  ^  do  you  go  on  with  your  story.' 

With  the  Greatheeds,  in  whose  cottage  I  am  stay- 
ing, I  went  a  long  excursion  yesterday  up  the  Cots- 
wold  Hills,  which  have  a  noble  view  of  the  great  rich 
plain  of  Gloucestershire.  Winchcombe,  on  the  other 
side,  is  a  charming  old  town  of  quaint  irregular  houses. 
We  passed  through  it  to  Hailes  Abbey,  a  small  low 
ruin  now,  of  cloisters  in  a  rich  meadow,  but  once 
most  important  as  containing  the  great  relic  of  the 
Precious  Blood,  which  was  brought  thither  by  Edmund, 
son  of  the  founder,  Richard,  King  of  the  Romans. 
Thirteen  bishops  said  mass  at  different  altars  at  the 
consecration,  and  three  of  the  Plantagenets  —  the 
founder,  his  wife,  and  his  son  Edmund — are  buried  in 
the  church.  It  is  now  a  peaceful  sohtude,  with  a 
few  ancient  thatched  cottages  standing  round  the 
wooded  pastures. 

In  returning,  we  turned  aside  to  Sudeley  Castle, 
the  old  Seymour  house,  where  Katherine  Parr  is 
buried.  It  is  a  picturesque  and  grand  old  house, 
partially  restored,  partly  now  a  green  courtyard  sur- 
rounded by  ruined  walls  and  arches.  The  Queen's 
(modern)  tomb  has  a  touching  sleeping  figure^  guarded 

^  At  Sudeley  Castle,  where  "  the  Mother  of  the  English  Reforma- 
tion "  is  buried,  I  wrote  for  Mrs.  Dent : — 

Here,  within  the  chapel's  shade, 
Reverent  hands  have  gently  laid, 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


439 


by  two  angels.  As  we  were  coming  out  of  the  chapel, 
Mrs.  Dent^  pursued  us  —  a  picturesque  figure  in  a 
Marie  Antoinette  hat — and  brought  us  in  to  tea.  The 
Dents  made  their  fortunes  as  glovers,  and,  in  their 
present  magnificence,  a  parcel  of  their  gloves,  as  from 
the  shop,  is  always  left  in  a  conspicuous  place  in  the 
hall,  to  ^  keep  them  humble.^ 

Tettenhall  Wood,  Oct.  12.— Whilst  with  the  Cor- 
bets  at  Cheltenham,  I  visited  Thirlstone,  a  curious 
house  which  belonged  to  Lord  Northbrook.    It  was 

From  the  suffering  of  her  life, 
From  its  storminess  and  strife, 
All  that  rests  of  one  who  shone 
For  a  time  on  England's  throne. 
Ever  gentle,  ever  kind, 
Seeking  human  souls  to  bind 
In  a  Christian's  fetters  fast, 
Heavenward  leading  at  the  last : 
And  their  watch  two  angels  keep 
Over  Katherine's  gentle  sleep. 

Oh  !  amid  this  world  of  ours, 
With  its  sunshine  and  its  flowers, 
Glad  with  light  and  blest  with  love, 
Let  us  still  so  live  above 
All  earth's  jealousies  and  snares. 
All  its  fretfulness  and  cares, 
Ever  faithful,  ever  true, 
With  the  noblest  end  in  view, 
Seeking  human  souls  to  raise 
By  the  simplest,  purest  ways  ; 
Then  their  ward  will  angels  keep 
When  we  too  are  hush'd  to  sleep." 

1  Emma,  daughter  of  John  Brocklehurst,  Esq.,  of  Hurdsfield,  the 
authoress  of  an  admirable  work  on  the  ''Annals  of  Winchcombe  and 
Sudeley." 


440  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE  [1876 

afterwards  bought  by  Sir  J.  Philipps,  the  bibliomaniac, 
and  contains  the  most  enormous  and  extraordinary 
collection  of  books  and  pictures  imaginable ;  a  few 
gems,  but  imbedded  in  masses  of  rubbish,  which  the 
present  possessor,  Mrs.  Fenwick,  daughter  of  the  col- 
lector, is  forbidden  to  sell  or  destroy. 

I  have  been  working  hard  for  Mrs.  Moore  at  the 
Memoir  of  her  husband  the  Archdeacon  (the  object 
of  my  visit),  and  have  read  through  all  his  speeches, 
&c.  I  see,  however,  how  impracticable  it  is  to  help 
in  work  of  this  kind.  Mrs.  Moore  implores  me  to 
cut  out  what  should  be  omitted.  I  select  what  seems 
to  me  utterly  trivial  and  commonplace,  and  she  is 
annoyed,  saying  it  comprises  the  only  matters  of  r^al 
importance.  She  implores  me  to  correct  her  diction 
and  grammar :  I  do  so,  and  she  weeps  because  her 
pleasure  is  destroyed  in  a  work  which  is  no  longer 
her  own." 

Donington  Rectory ^  Oct.  13. — This  is  a  pleasant 
place  in  itself,  and  any  place  would  be  pleasant  within 
view  of  the  beloved  Wrekin.^  On  arriving,  I  went 
on  at  once  to  Boscobel,  and  saw  the  oak  which  grew 
from  an  acorn  of  the  tree  that  sheltered  Charles  II., 
and  in  the  ancient  half-timbered  house,  the  hiding- 
place  under  the  floor  at  the  top  of  the  turret-stairs, 
where  the  Prince  is  said  to  have  crouched  for  forty- 
eight  hours,  with  his  trap-door  concealed  by  cheeses. 
Well  smothered  he  must  have  been,  if  Staffordshire 
cheeses  smelt  then  as  they  do  now.  There  is  a  good 
portrait  of  Charles,  which  he  presented  to  the  house 

^  The  great  feature  in  views  from  Stoke  Rectory. 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  44  I 

after  the  Restoration.  I  went  on  with  Henry  de 
Bunsen  to  White  Ladies,  now  a  low  ruin  of  red  walls 
in  a  meadow,  but  entered  still  by  a  fine  Norman 
archway.  Inside  is  a  quiet  burial-ground  for  Roman 
Catholics,  amongst  whose  lichen-tinted  headstones  is 
that  of  ^  Mistress  Joan,  who  was  called  friend  by 
Charles  11.' — being  one  of  those  who  assisted  in  his 
escape.  Beyond,  in  Hubble  Lane,  is  the  ruin  of  the 
Pendrill  house.  The  Pendrills  ^  were  seven  brothers, 
common  labourers,  but  went  up  to  London  and  had 
a  pension  after  the  Restoration. 

We  went  on  to  Tong — a  glorious  church,  quite  a 
church  of  the  dead,  so  full  of  noble  tombs  of  Stanleys 
and  Vernons.  Near  it,  in  low-lying  lands  with  water, 
is  Tong  Castle,  the  old  house  of  the  Durants.  The 
last  Mr.  Durant  brought  in  another  lady  to  live  with 
his  wife,  which  she  resented,  and  she  left  him.  There 
was  a  long  divorce  suit,  which  they  both  attended 
every  day  in  cpaches  and  six.  Owing  to  some  legal 
quibble,  he  gained  his  suit,  though  the  facts  against 
him  were  well  known,  and  he  was  so  delighted  at 
the  triumph  over  his  wife  that  he  erected  a  monu- 
ment in  honour  of  his  victory  on  the  hill  above 
the  castle.  The  sons  all  took  part  with  their  mother, 
and  when  Mr.  Durant  was  lying  in  his  last  illness, 
they  set  barrels  of  gunpowder  surreptitiously  under 
the  monument,  and  had  a  match  and  train  ready. 
They  bribed  a  groom  at  the  house  to  ride  post-haste 
with  the  news  as  soon  as  the  breath  was  out  of 
their  father's  body;  and  the  news  of  his  death  first 

^  The  name  is  thus  spelt  in  the  epitaph  on  the  tomb  of  Richard 
Pendrill  at  St.  Giles  in  the  Fields. 


442 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


became  known  to  the  county  by  the  monument  being 
blown  into  shivers.  The  Durants  sold  Tong  to  Lord 
Bradford.'^ 

BreltoHj  Yorkshire^  Oct.  30. — I  have  been  here 
for  a  very  pleasant  week  with  a  large  party  of  what 
Lady  Margaret  (Beaumont)  calls  her  '  young  men  and 
maidens.'  .  .  .  There  has  been  nothing  especial  to 
narrate,  though  our  hostess  has  entertained  the  whole 
party  with  her  never-failing  charm  of  conversation 
and  wit. 

One  day  I  went  with  Henry  Strutt/  whom  I  Hke 
much,  to  Wakefield,  to  draw  the  old  chapel  on  the 
bridge.  What  an  awful  place  Wakefield  is — always 
an  inky  sky  and  an  inky  landscape,  and  the  river 
literally  so  inky  that  the  Mayor  went  out  in  a  boat, 
dipped  his  pen,  and  wrote  a  letter  with  it  to  the 
Commissioners  of  Nuisances." 

Raby  Castle^  Nov,  i. — I  came  here  on  Monday, 
meeting  the  delicately  humorous  Mr.  Dicky  Doyle  at 
Darlington,  yet  with  much  fear  that  there  were  few 
other  guests  ;  but  I  was  relieved  to  find  ^  Eleanor  the 
Good/  Duchess  of  Northumberland,  seated  at  the  five- 
o'clock  tea-table,  and  have  had  much  pleasant  talk  with 
her.  She  spoke  of  her  absorbing  attachment  to  Aln- 
wick and  the  pain  it  was  to  leave  it ;  that  the  things 
which  make  the  greatest  blanks  in  life  are  not  the 

^  Henry  Strutt,  who  succeeded  his  father  as  2nd  Lord  Belper  in 
1880,  married  Lady  Margaret,  sixth  daughter  of  the  2nd  Earl  of 
Leicester. 


1 876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


443 


greatest  griefs,  but  the  losses  which  most  affect  daily 
life  and  habits.  .  .  .  Frederick  Stanley  and  Lady  Con- 
stance ^  came  in  the  evening,  he  very  pleasant,  and  she 
almost  more  full  of  laughs  than  any  one  I  ever  saw. 
Other  guests  are  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Buncombe,  young 
Gage,  who  will  be  Lord  Gage,^  and  just  before  dinner 
a  good-looking  youth  came  in,  who  turned  out  to  be 
Peddie  Bennet.^ 

''Yesterday  Lord  and  Lady  Pollington  came,  and 
old  Lord  Strathnairn,  looking  thinner  and  more  of 
an  old  dandy  than  ever." 

Nov,  3. — Yesterday,  while  I  was  walking  with  the 
Pollingtons  through  the  beech-woods  deep  in  rustling 
leaves,  the  castle  bell  announced  the  advent  of  guests, 
and  returning,  we  found  the  Warwicks  and  Brooke 
arrived." 

''  Whitburn  Hallj  Nov,  7. — There  is  a  great  pleasure 
not  only  in  the  affection,  but  in  the  demonstration  of 
affection  which  one  receives  here.  Dear  old  Lady 
WiUiamson,  in  her  beautiful  tender  old  age,  wins  all 
hearts  by  the  patience  with  which  she  bears  her 
blindness,  and  the  sweetness  with  which  she  some- 
times imagines  she  sees ;  and  Lady  Barrington^s  lovely 
and  lovable  old  face  brings  sunshine  to  all  around 
it.  .  .  .  In  the  younger  generation,  all  is  hospitality 
and  kindness." 

^  Frederick  Arthur,  second  son  of  the  14th  Earl  of  Derby,  married 
Constance,  eldest  daughter  of  the  4th  Earl  of  Clarendon. 

-  He  succeeded  his  grandfather  as  5th  Viscount  Gage  in  1S77. 
Frederick,  third  son  of  the  6th  Earl  of  Tankerville.    See  vol.  ii. 


444    .  THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


Brancepetli  Castle^  Nov,  8. — Yesterday  I  went  with 
Augusta  Barrington  to  visit  Edward^  and  Tunie  Liddell 
in  their  new  home  at  Jarrow.  It  is  starthng  to  see 
how  the  spirit  that  animated  the  early  martyrs  has 
induced  them  to  exchange  competence  for  penury,  and 
to  give  up  the  elms  and  flowers  and  pleasant  sunny 
rooms  of  the  Rectory  at  Wimpole.  Now  they  are 
amidst  a  teeming  population  of  blackened,  foul-mouthed, 
drunken  roughs,  living  in  miserable  rows  of  dismal 
houses,  in  a  country  where  every  vestige  of  vegetation 
is  killed  by  noxious  chemical  vapours,  on  the  edge  of 
a  slimy  marsh,  with  a  distance  of  inky  sky,  and 
furnaces  vomiting  forth  volumes  of  blackest  smoke. 
All  nature  seems  parched  and  writhing  under  the 
pollution.  Their  days  are  perfectly  full  of  work,  and 
they  have  scarcely  ever  an  evening  to  themselves.  .  .  . 
They  said  our  visit  did  them  good,  and  I  shall  go 
again. 

Edward  had  been  perplexed  by  an  old  woman,  one 
of  his  parishioners,  always  declaring  herself  to  be  at 
least  ten  years  younger  than  he  felt  certain  she  must 
be,  yet  he  did  not  think  she  was  of  the  kind  who 
would  tell  a  lie.  At  last  he  found  that  she  dated  her 
age  from  her  baptism.  ^  The  clergy  were  not  so  quick 
upon  us  then,'  she  said,  ^  as  they  are  now ;  so  my 
father  he  just  waited  till  we  were  all  born  to  have  us 
baptized,  and  then  had  us  all  done  together:  there 
were  eleven  of  us.' 

I  reached  this  great  castle  in  pitch  darkness.    It  is 

^  Eldest  son  of  the  Hon.  Colonel  Augustus  Liddell,  married  Christina 
Catherine,  daughter  of  C.  E.  Eraser  Tytler,  Esq.,  of  Sanquhar,  the 
authoress  of    Mistress  Judith,"  "Jonathan,"  &c.    See  vol.  iii. 


1876]  LONDON   WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  445 

a  magnificent  place — a  huge  courtyard  and  enormous 
fabric  girdled  in  by  tremendous  towers  of  Henry  III. 
The  staircase  is  modern,  but  most  of  the  rooms  have 
still  the  vaulted  ceilings  of  Henry  III.'s  times  though 
the  arms  of  the  Nevilles,  with  which  they  were  once 
painted,  are  gone  now.  The  beer  and  wine  cellars, 
with  some  cells  called  dungeons,  are  very  curious. 
The  butler  pointed  out  with  pride  the  black  cobwebs 
which  hung  in  festoons  and  cover  much  of  the  wine,  a 
great  deal  of  which  was  in  the  huge  bottles  called 
'cocks'  and  'hens.'  The  white  cobwebs  he  had  less 
opinion  of :  they  are  less  healthy. 

''Pleasant  Lady  Haddington^  and  her  daughter  are 
here.  Lady  Boyne^  is  a  most  pretty  and  winning 
hostess,  and  her  children  are  thoroughly  well  brought 
up,  and  take  a  pleasant  easy  part  in  everything.  In 
the  evenings  the  whole  party  dance  '  Durham  reels  ' 
in  the  great  hall. 

"  It  was  disappointing  to  have  snow  to-day,  but 
there  is  much  to  interest  in  the  house  and  in  the  old 
church  of  St.  Brandon  close  by,  where  some  grand 
figures  of  the  Nevilles  sleep  before  the  altar.  The 
very  curious  pews  and  reading-desk  of  the  time  of 
Bishop  Cosin  were  destroyed  in  a  mutilation  of  the 
church  under  the  garb  of  '  restoration '  sixteen  years 
ago. 

"  There  are  several  curious  pictures  by  Hogarth  here, 
in  which  the  Lord  Boyne  of  that  day  is  introduced  ; 
but  the  most  remarkable  is  one  of  Sir  Francis  Dash- 

^  Helen,  daughter  of  Sir  John  Warrender,  wife  of  the  nth  Earl 
of  Haddington. 

^  Katherine,  third  daughter  of  the  2nd  Earl  of  Eldon. 


446 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


wood  as  a  monk  of  Medmenham  worshipping  a  naked 
woman  and  all  the  good  things  of  life." 

KirMands^  Nov.  14. — On  Friday  I  was  again  at 
Jarrow,  and  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  Edward 
Liddells.  Next  morning  I  went  with  Edward  to  the 
wonderful  old  church  of  the  seventh  century,  where 
Bedels  chair  still  stands  under  the  Saxon  arches.  All 
around  vegetation  is  blasted ;  dead  trees  rear  their 
naked  boughs  into  the  black  sky,  and  grimy  rushes 
vainly  endeavour  to  grow  in  the  poisonous  marshes. 
The  very  horror  of  ugliness  gives  a  weird  and  ghastly 
interest  to  the  place.  Edward  finds  endless  work,  and 
enjoys  the  struggle  he  lives  in.  As  Montalembert 
says,  '  Ce  n'est  pas  la  victoire  qui  fait  le  bonheur  des 
nobles  coeurs — c'est  le  combat.'  His  is  literally  a 
Christian  warfare.  If  he  has  spare  time,  he  employs 
it  in  looking  about  the  streets  for  drunken  men.  As 
he  sees  them  come  reehng  along,  he  offers  to  help 
them,  and  walks  home  with  them  clinging  to  his  arm. 
On  the  way  he  draws  them  out,  and  having  thus 
found  out  where  they  live,  returns  next  day,  armed 
with  the  silly  things  they  have  let  fall,  to  make  them 
ashamed  with.  While  I  was  making  a  little  sketch  of 
the  church,  a  wedding  party  came  in,  the  bridegroom 
being  tipsy.  Edward  accused  him  of  it,  and  he  con- 
fessed at  once,  saying  that  he  had  been  in  such  a 
fright  at  the  ceremony,  he  had  been  obliged  to  take 
some  spirits  to  keep  his  courage  up.  Edward  said  he 
wondered  he  could  care  for  that  sort  of  courage,  that 
was  only  Dutch  courage,  real  English  courage  was  the 
only  right  sort ;  and  as  he  supposed  he  wished  to 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  447 

make  his  wife  happy,  that  was  the  sort  of  courage  he 
must  look  for ;  but  being  drunk  on  the  day  he  married 
was  a  bad  omen  for  her  happiness.  And  yet,  in  the 
midst  of  his  httle  scolding,  Edward  was  so  charming 
to  them  all  that  the  whole  wedding  party  were  capti- 
vated, and  an  acquaintance,  if  not  a  friendship,  was 
founded.  It  all  showed  a  power  of  work  in  the  real 
way  to  win  souls.    And — 

*  He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best 
All  things  both  great  and  small  ; 
For  the  dear  God  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all.'  ^ 

I  came  here  by  a  bitterly  cold  journey  of  ten  hours 
through  the  snow.  The  train  went  off  the  line,  and 
we  were  delayed  so  late  that  I  had  to  drive  all  the 
way  from  Kelso — a  dark  bitter  drive.  Har  Elhot^ 
received  me  most  warmly,  with  her  little  Admiral,  and 
dear  old  George  Liddell.  The  place  was  built  by  old 
Mr.  Richardson,  the  Writer  to  the  Signet,  and  now 
belongs  to  his  daughter  Joanna.  On  Sunday  after- 
noon we  went  to  Ancrum,  the  burnt  house  of  Sir 
Wilham  Scott,  now  being  rebuilt  in  the  old  Scotch 
style  ;  its  situation  is  lovely.^' 

Edinburgh  J  Nov,  19. — I  ^  have  been  four  days  at 
Winton  with  dear  old  Lady  Ruthveii.  She  is  now 
blind  as  well  as  deaf,  and  very  helpless,  but  she  is  still 
a  loving  centre  of  beautiful  and  unstinted  beneficence. 

^  Coleridge. 

^  Lady  Harriet  Elliot,  sixth  daughter  of  the  ist  Earl  of  Ravens- 
worth. 


44  8  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE  [1876 

She  says,  '  It  is  a  great  trial,  a  very  great  trial,  neither 
to  see  nor  hear,  but  it  is  astonishing  the  amount  of  time 
it  gives  one  for  good  thoughts.  I  just  know  fifty  chap- 
ters of  the  Bible  by  heart,  and  when  I  say  them  to 
myself  in  the  night,  it  soothes  and  quiets  me,  however 
great  the  pain  and  restlessness.  It  is  often  a  little  trial 
to  me — the  unsatisfied  longing  I  have  to  know  just  a 
little  more,  just  something  oi  the  beyond.  If  I  could 
only  find  out  if  my  husband  and  my  sister  knew  about 
me.    There  is  a  little  poem  I  often  think  of — 

*  The  soul's  dark  cottage,  battered  and  decayed, 
Lets  in  new  light  through  chinks  that  time  has  made.'  ^ 

Perhaps  it  will  be  so  with  me ;  but  soon  I  shall  know 
all,  and  meantime  God  is  very  good.  Since  my  last 
great  illness  I  have  not  been  able  for  it,  but  till  then 
I  just  always  went  on  reading  prayers  to  my  servants, 
that  is,  I  could  not  really  read,  you  know,  but  I  just 
said  a  chapter  out  of  my  own  remembrance,  and  then 
I  prayed  as  I  felt  we  needed.' 

Lady  Ruthven  can  repeat  whole  cantos  of  Milton 
and  other  poets,  and  her  peculiar  voice  does  not  spoil 
them ;  rather,  when  one  remembers  her  great  age  and 
goodness,  it  adds  an  indescribable  pathos.  She  likes 
to  be  read  to  down  her  trumpet,  which  is  not  easy ; 
and  the  person  she  hears  best  thus  is  George  the 
under-footman ;  but,  as  she  says,  she  '  has  formidable 
rivals  in  lamps.' 

One  of  her  occupations  is  feeding  her  pheasants 
with  bread  and  milk  at  the  castle  door.  'Ah!  I  see 
you  are  early  accustoming  them  to  bread  sauce,'  said 

1  E.  V^aller. 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


449 


Mr.  Reeve  of  the  Edinburgh  Review^  when  he  saw 
her  thus  employed. 

One  day  we  drove  to  Yester  (Lord  Tweeddale's), 
only  remarkable  for  its  pretty  wooded  approach.  In 
leaving  Lady  Ruthven,  one  could  not  but  feel  one 
left  her  for  the  last  time,  and  what  for  her  the  change 
— which  at  ninety  must  be  so  near — will  be,  from 
blindness,  deafness,  helplessness,  after  her  entirely 
noble  and  holy  life  —  to  light,  and  hearing,  and 
power.'^ 

Edinburgh^  Nov,  20. — A  visit  to  the  Robert  Shaw 
Stewarts  has  given  me  a  pleasant  glimpse  of  Edinburgh 
society. 

Certainly  Edinburgh  is  gloriously  beautiful*  but 
never  was  there  a  city  so  richly  endowed  by  Nature 
contaminated  by  such  abject  and  ludicrous  public 
monuments !  —  the  enormous  monument  of  Walter 
Scott,  a  ludicrous  copy  in  stone  of  the  Bishop's  throne 
at  Exeter  :  the  sort  of  lighthouse  which  closes  Princes 
Street  (a  monument  to  Lord  Nelson,  I  was  told)  :  the 
statue  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  has  lost  his 
hat  in  a  perfectly  futile  struggle  with  his  restive  horse, 
which  is  standing  on  its  tail : — worst  of  all,  the  figure 
of  the  Prince  Consort  (in  Charlotte  Square),  being 
adorned  by  specimens  of  each  class  of  society,  the 
most  ridiculous  of  all  being  a  peer  and  peeress  in 
their  robes. 

This  morning  I  drew  in  the  Grassmarket.  The 
crowd  was  most  tiresome  till  it  took  the  idea  that  I  was 
Sir  Noel  Paton,  the  popular  Edinburgh  artist.    I  tacitly 
encouraged  the  idea,  when  I  found  the  result  was — 
VOL.  IV.  2  F 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


'  Dinna  ye  see  it's  Sir  Noel  Paton  hissel  drawing  the 
cassel?  then  let  Sir  Noel  see,  mon.' 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  with  Mrs.  Stewart  to 
the  exhibition  of  Raeburn's  pictures  —  nothing  but 
Raeburns,  though  many  vast  rooms  are  filled  with 
them;  and  deeply  interesting  it  is  thus  not  only  to 
follow  one  great,  too  little  appreciated,  painter  through 
life,  but  to  be  introduced  to  the  whole  world  of  his 
illustrious  contemporaries.  Raeburn^s  pictures  may 
be  slight,  and  may  have  faults  of  colouring,  and  even 
of  drawing,  but  his  men  never  fail  to  be  gentlemen  and 
his  women  are  always  ladies — very  pleasant  people 
too  generally,  and  people  it  is  delightful  to  live  with. 
'A  great  portrait  should  be  liker  than  the  original,' 
wrote  Coleridge.  The  noblest  portrait  here  seemed  to 
me  to  be  that  of  Alexander  Adam,  Rector  of  the  High 
School,  a  serious  and  holy,  but  engaging  old  man. 
Lady  Mackenzie  of  Coul  is  a  sweet,  refined,  and  beauti- 
ful woman.  As  a  rule,  the  old  men's  portraits  are  the 
best — their  shaggy  eyebrows,  their  vigorous  old  age, 
the  sharp  shadows  of  their  chins,  so  vividly  and 
carefully  drawn,  and  all  the  delicacies  of  expression 
centred  in  the  eyes.  There  were  numbers  of  such 
old  men's  portraits,  in  which  the  dead  grandfather 
must  still  often  seem  to  share  the  inner  family  fife 
of  many  a  quiet  country-house.  It  shows  the  extra- 
ordinary change  in  the  value  popular  feeling  places 
upon  art  when  one  recollects  that  the  works  of  Watts 
and  Millais  cost  from  i^2000  to  ;^3O0O,  while  these 
pictures — far  more  pleasing,  far  more  like  those  they 
represent,  and,  though  more  sketchy,  cleverer  and 
more  original — used  to  cost  only  ;^'lO." 


1876] 


LONDON   WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


Nov,  21. — We  have  been  out  to  New  Hailes,  the 
old  Dalrymple  house,  now  inhabited  by  Lord  Shand. 
The  characteristic  of  the  house  is  its  hbrary,  which, 
however,  is  rather  useless,  as  the  bookcases  are  seven- 
teen feet  high,  and  there  is  no  ladder  to  reach  the 
upper  shelves  by." 

Nov.  22. — Excursion  to  Pinkie,  the  fine  old  house 
of  the  Hopes,  near  Musselburgh — crenellated,  machi- 
colated,  picturesque  as  possible.  Charles  Edward 
slept  there  when  triumphant  from  Prestonpans.  There 
is  a  noble  gallery  upstairs  with  a  painted  ceiling,  and 
a  secret  passage  and  staircase.  Lady  Hope  was  very 
kind.i 

In  Edinburgh  I  have  been,  for  the  first  time,  re- 
ceived as  a  sort  of  mild  literary  lion,  and  have  found 
it  very  amusing.  A  quantity  of  people  came  to  call — 
professors,  the  bishop,  and  others." 

Ravensworth  Castky  Nov,  26. — I  have  been  much 
enjoying  a  visit  here,  and  the  cordial  affection  which 
abounds  in  my  dear  Liddell  cousins.  Old  General 
Stanhope^  is  here,  and  told  us — 

'  A  gentleman  was  riding  over  the  Yorkshire 
Wolds  late  in  the  gloaming,  when  his  horse  started 
at  something.  With  the  perseverance  of  a  good 
rider,  he  forced  the  horse  to  return  to  the  spot  where 
he  had  started,  when  he  saw  with  horror  that  he 
had  been  frightened  by  a  dead  body,  evidently  of 

^  Aldena  (Kingscote),  wife  of  Sir  Archibald  Hope. 

2  General  Philip  Stanhope,  fifth  son  of  Walter  Spencer  Stanhope  of 
Cannon  Hall,  celebrated  for  his  kindly  nature  and  pleasant  conversation. 
Died  1879. 


452 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


a  murdered  man,  lying  by  the  side  of  the  road.  A 
dog  was  sitting  by  the  body,  and  as  he  rode  up  it 
ran  away. 

'  Without  losing  his  presence  of  mind  for  an  in- 
stant, without  thought  of  hngering  to  hunt  up  police, 
&c.,  the  rider  set  spurs  to  his  horse  and  pursued  the 
dog.  He  pursued  it  a  great  distance,  and  eventually 
saw  it  enter  a  low  solitary  public-house. 

'  He  then  put  his  horse  into  the  wretched  stable 
of  the  place  and  entered  the  house.  In  the  brick 
kitchen  three  men  were  drinking,  one  man  by  him- 
self, two  men  together;  curled  up  by  the  fire  was 
the  dog. 

'  The  rider  called  for  beer  or  whisky  and  sat 
down.  Meanwhile  he  observed  his  companions.  The 
two  men  talked  together  of  quite  indifferent  subjects ; 
the  solitary  man  said  nothing.  At  last  the  gentleman 
got  up  and  gave  the  dog  a  great  kick.  It  ran  to  the 
lonely  man,  who  said  in  a  fury,  What  do  you  mean, 
sir,  by  kicking  my  dog  ?  " — I  mean  that  I  chose  to 
do  it,"  he  repHed ;  and  furthermore,  I  mean  that  I 
arrest  you  for  murder,  and  I  call  upon  you  (turning 
to  the  other  two  men)  to  ^assist  me  in  arresting  this 
murderer." 

^  And  the  man  confessed.* 

General  Stanhope  also  gave  an  interesting  account 
of  how  old  Lord  Braybrooke,  going  to  a  farm  to  see 
some  cows,  was  struck  by  something  in  one  of  the 
farming  men.  At  last,  suddenly  slapping  him  on  the 
shoulder,  he  exclaimed,  ^  Good  God !  you  are  De 
Bruhl!'  and  it  was  a  man  who  had  been  well  known 
in  the  world,  son  of  the  Bruhl  of  the  famous  Terrace 


1876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


453 


at  Dresden,  the  friend  of  Augustus  of  Saxony,  who 
had  been  ruined  by  the  Prince  Regent,  and  had  sunk 
lower  and  lower,  till  he  came  to  be  a  farm  labourer, 
unrecognised  and  unnoticed  for  years. 

Talking  of  dreams.  General  Stanhope  said — 
^^'Lady  Andover,  who  was  the  daughter  of  Lord 
Leicester,  was  with  her  husband  ^  at  Holkham,  and 
when  one  day  all  the  other  men  were  going  out  shoot- 
ing, she  piteously  implored  him  not  to  go,  saying  that 
she  had  dreamt  vividly  that  he  would  be  shot  if  he 
went  out.  She  was  so  terribly  eager  about  it,  that 
he  acceded  to  her  wishes,  and  remained  with  her  in 
her  painting-room,  for  she  painted  beautifully  in  oils, 
and  was  copying  a  picture  of  the  Misers  "  which  was 
at  Holkham.  But  the  afternoon  was  excessively  beau- 
tiful, and  Lady  Andover's  strong  impression,  which 
had  been  so  vivid  in  the  morning,  then  seemed  to 
wear  off,  till  at  last  she  said,  ^^Well,  really,  perhaps 
I  have  been  selfish  in  keeping  you  from  what  you  like 
so  much  because  of  my  own  impressions ;  so  now,  if 
you  care  about  going  out,  don't  let  me  keep  you  in 
any  longer.^'  And  he  said,  Well,  if  don\  mind, 
I  should  certainly  like  to  go,"  and  he  went. 

'  He  had  not  been  gone  long  before  Lady  Andover's 
impression  returned  just  as  vividly  as  ever,  and  she 
rushed  upstairs  and  put  on  her  bonnet  and  pursued 
him.  But,  as  she  crossed  the  park,  she  met  her 
husband's  own  servant  riding  furiously  without  his 
coat.  Don't  tell  me,"  she  said  at  once;  I  know 
what  has  happened,"  and  she  went  back,  and  locked 

^  Charles  Nevison,  Viscount  Andover,  son  of  the  15th  Earl  of 
Suffolk,  died  January  11,  1800. 


454 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


herself  into  her  room.  His  servant  was  handing  him 
a  gun  through  a  hedge,  it  went  off,  and  he  was  killed 
upon  the  spot.' 

'  The  same  Lady  Andover  had  a  dream  of  a  minor 
kind  which  came  curiously  true.  She  said  to  her 
sister  that  she  had  dreamt  most  vividly  that  she  was 
standing  with  her  under  the  portico  at  Holkham ;  that 
they  were  both  dressed  in  deep  mourning — thick  black 
bombazine;  and  that  they  were  watching  a  great 
funeral  leave  the  house,  but  that  it  was  not  going  in 
the  natural  direction  of  the  churchyard,  but  the  other 
way,  up  the  avenue. 

'^'A  month  after,  the  two  sisters  were  standing 
under  the  portico,  dressed  in  deep  mourning  for  old 
Queen  Charlotte,  and  the  funeral  of  Lady  Albemarle, 
who  had  died  in  the  house,  was  going  away  up  the 
avenue.  Lady  Andover  said  to  her  sister,  Don't 
you  remember  ?  "  ' 

'^Apropos  of  second  sight.  General  Stanhope 
said — 

^  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  man  they  used  to  call 
Houghy  White  ?  When  I  was  young,  I  went  with 
him  down  to  Richmond  on  a  water-party,  which  was 
given  by  Sir  George  Warrender.  Houghy  was  then 
engaged  to  be  married  to  a  niece  of  Beau  Brummel, 
as  he  was  called,  and  when  we  returned  from  Rich- 
mond, we  went  to  spend  the  evening  at  her  mother's 
house,  and  there  Houghy  told  this  story. 

^  He  was  aide-de-camp  to  the  old  Duke  of  Cam- 
bridge when  he  was  in  Hanover,  and  was  required  b}^ 
the  Duke  to  go  with  him  on  a  shooting-party  into  the 
Hartz  Mountains.    He,  and  indeed  two  of  the  Duke's 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  45  5 

other  aides-de-camp,  were  then,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
very  much  in  love  with  the  wife  of  a  fourth — a  very 
beautiful  young  lady — and  they  were  all  much  occu- 
pied by  thoughts  of  her.  At  the  place  in  the  Hartz  to 
which  they  went,  there  was  not  much  accommodation, 
but  there  was  one  good  room  with  an  alcove  in  it  and 
four  beds.  The  two  German  equerries  slept  in  the 
alcove,  and  the  two  Enghsh  aides-de-camp  in  two  beds 
outside  it.  In  the  night  White  distinctly  saw  the  lady 
they  all  so  much  admired  come  into  the  room.  She 
came  up  to  both  of  the  beds  outside  the  alcove  and 
looked  into  them;  then  she  passed  into  the  alcove. 
He  immediately  heard  the  equerry  on  the  right  cry 
out  Was  haben  sie  gesehn  ?  and  the  other — the 
husband — say,  Ach  Gott !  Ich  habe  meine  Frau 
gesehn  ? 

'''White  was  terribly  impressed,  and  the  next  day 
entreated  to  excuse  himself  from  going  out  shooting 
with  the  Duke.  The  Duke  insisted  on  knowing  his 
reason,  upon  which  he  told  what  he  had  seen,  and 
expressed  his  conviction  that  his  friend  was  dead. 
The  Duke  was  very  much  annoyed,  and  said,  "  You  are 
really,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  so  much  occupied  with  this 
lady  that  you  neglect  your  duties  to  me  :  I  brought 
you  here  to  shoot  with  me,  and  now,  on  account 
of  whimsical  fancies,  you  refuse  to  go :  but  I  insist 
upon  your  going."  However,  White  continued  to 
say,  "  I  must  most  humbly  beg  your  Royal  Highness 
to  excuse  me,  but  I  cannot  and  will  not  go  out 
shooting  to-day,'^  and  at  last  he  was  left  at  home. 
That  evening,  the  mail  came  in  while  they  were  at 
dinner,  and  the  letters  were  handed  to  the  Duke.  He 


456  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

opened  them,  and  beckoned  White  to  him.  You 
were  quite  right,"  he  said  ;     the  lady  died  last  night.'^ ' 
Lizzie  Williamson  said  : — 

'  I  remember  quite  well  how  a  very  charming  young 
surgeon  came  into  this  neighbourhood,  a  Mr.  Stirling ; 
he  was  beloved  by  everybody,  and  though  he  was  as 
poor  as  a  church-mouse,  he  had  not  an  enemy  in  the 
world.  After  his  medical  rounds,  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  riding  home  through  a  lovely  wooded  lane  which 
there  is  near  Gibside,  with  trees  on  each  side  and 
the  river  below.  One  day — one  Friday — as  he  was 
riding  home  this  way,  he  was  shot  by  some  men  con- 
cealed amongst  the  bushes.  His  body  was  dragged 
into  the  wood  and  was  searched  and  rifled  ;  but  he  was 
very  poor,  dear  man ;  he  had  nothing  but  his  watch, 
and  the  brutes  took  that :  and  that  is  all  I  have  to  say 
about  him. 

^  On  the  night  before,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Bowes's  agent, 
who  was  in  the  habit  of  going  every  week  to  receive 
money  at  the  lead-mines,  some  miles  distant  from 
Gibside,  awoke  dreadfully  agitated.  She  told  her 
husband  that  she  had  had  a  most  terrible  dream, 
and  conjured  him,  as  he  loved  her,  to  stay  at  home 
that  day,  and  not  to  go  to  the  mines.  She  said  she 
did  not  know  the  place  herself,  but  she  saw  a  wooded 
lane  above  a  river  and  some  men  hiding  in  bushes,  and 
she  saw  him  come  riding  along,  and  the  men  shoot 
at  him  from  behind,  and  drag  him  into  the  bushes. 
He  laughed  at  her,  and  said  of  course  he  could  not 
neglect  his  duty  to  his  master  for  such  an  idle  fancy 
as  that,  and  that  he  must  go  to  the  mines. 

^  She  fell  asleep  again,  and  she  dreamt  the  same 


1876]  LONDON   WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  457 

^  thing,  and  she  urgently  entreated  and  implored  him 
not  to  go.  He  said,  I  must;  the  men  will  be  expect- 
ing me ;  they  are  to  meet  me  there,  and  I  have  really 
no  excuse  to  give/' 

'  She  fell  asleep  the  third  time,  and  she  dreamt 
the  same  thing,  and  awoke  with  agonised  entreaties 
that  her  husband  would  accede  to  her  wishes.  Then 
_he_really  began  to  be  frightened  himself,  and  at  last 
he  said  he  would  make  a  concession  ;  he  would  go  to 
the  mines,  but  he  would  not  go  by  the  wooded  lane  at 
all  (for  he  was  obliged  to  allow  there  was  such  a  place), 
but  would  both  go  and  return  by  the  high  moorland 
way  on  the  other  side  the  river. 

'  So  the  agent  was  saved  and  the  poor  young  sur- 
geon was  murdered  in  his  place. 

^  The  watch  which  had  been  taken  was  found  after- 
wards in  a  pawnbroker's  at  Durham,  and  the  men  who 
pawned  it  were  traced  and  taken  :  Cain  and  Rain  were 
their  odd  names.  In  the  hand  of  the  murdered  man 
was  found  a  button  of  pink  glass,  imitation  amethyst, 
which  Exactly  matched  those  on  Cain's  waistcoat,  with 
a  bit  of  the  stuff  hanging  to  it,  as  if  the  dead  man's  hand 
had  clenched  it  in  a  struggle.  But  Cain's  friends  got 
hold  of  the  discovery,  and  sowed  the  wood  with  similar 
pink  buttons,  which  were  found  ;  so  that  evidence  went 
for  nothing  and  Cain  got  off,  but  every  one  believed 
that  he  and  Rain  did  it. 

^  Years  afterwards,  Cain  was  ill  and  sent  for 
Harry,^  and  confided  a  secret  to  him  under  strict 
vows  of  secrecy,  and  no  one  knows  what  that  secret 
was.' " 

^  Lord  Eslington,  afterwards  2nd  Earl  of  Ravensworth. 


45  8  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1876 

Kinmelj  Nov.  30. — I  left  Ravensworth  early  on 
Monday  to  go  to  Ridley  Hall.  In  a  few  minutes  after 
arriving,  White  the  butler  came  to  say  that  Cousin 
Susan  would  see  me.  She  was  in  her  little  sitting- 
room,  half  sitting  up  on  her  sofa  before  an  immense 
fire.  At  above  eighty,  her  face  and  figure  have  still 
the  look  of  youth  which  they  had  at  thirty-five,  and 
that  quite  unaided  by  art,  though  not  by  dress.  She 
has  now  quite  lost  the  use  of  her  feet,  and  is 
cut  off  from  all  her  usual  employments,  her  garden, 
her  walks,  her  china,  and,  if  it  were  not  that  she 
is  so  long  inured  to  solitary  habits,  her  life  would 
be  indeed  most  desolate.  She  talked  all  afternoon 
and  evening,  chiefly  about  Tyneside  politics  or 
family  reminiscences.  She  asked  me  whom  /  thought 
she  had  better  leave  her  fortune  to,  I  said,  'After 
Mr.  Bowes,  to  one  of  the  Strathmore  boys.'  She 
would  not  take  leave  of  me  at  night,  pretending 
she  should  see  me  next  day,  but  I  knew  then  that 
she  did  not  mean  to  do  it.  She  said,  as  I  went 
out,  'You  may  think  that  3^ou  have  given  me  one 
happy  day.' 

''  I  slept  at  Chester  on  Tuesday,  and  walked  round 
the  walls  by  moonlight,  most  picturesque  and  desolate, 
with  only  the  tramp  of  an  occasional  wanderer  making 
the  night  more  silent  by  its  echoes. 

''  Yesterday  I  came  here.  A  beautiful  ascent  through 
woods  leads  from  the  seaboard  to  this  house,  magnifi- 
cent in  the  style  of  a  Louis  XIV.  chateau  externally, 
with  Morris  paper  and  colour  inside.  There  is  a  man 
party  here — Lord  Colville,  Sir  Dudley  Marjoribanks, 
Lord  de  Lisle,  Hedworth  Williamson,  Lord  Delamere. 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND   SOCIETY  459 

Hedworth  is  most  amusing,  and  Lord  de  Lisle  not 
without  a  quaint  humour." 

Dec.  I. — To-day  being  a  hunting  day,  most  of  the 
men  breakfasted  in  pink  in  the  hall.  We  drove  with 
the  Barringtons  to  the  old  Shipley  house  of  Bodryddan,^ 
where  young  Mrs.  Conwy  received  us.  The  fine  old 
house  has  been  altered  by  Nesfield — ^restored'  they 
call  it — but,  though  well  done  in  its  way,  the  quaint  old 
peculiar  character  is  gone.  This  generation,  too,  has 
sent  its  predecessors  into  absolute  oblivion.  Only  the 
pictures  keep  the  past  alive  at  all,  and  they  very  little. 
There  was  a  lovely  portrait  of  a  little  girl  with  a  dog 
in  Mrs.  Conwy's  sitting-room.  '  Who  was  it  ? '  I 
asked.  '  Oh,  somebody,  some  sort  of  great-aunt,*  she 
supposed,  ^  the  dog  was  rather  nice.'  It  was  Amelia 
Sloper,^  Dean  Shipley's  most  cherished  niece,  the  idol 
of  that  house  and  of  all  that  lived  in  it  in  a  past 
generation.  One  could  not  help  remembering  how 
that  child's  little  footsteps  were  once  the  sweetest 
music  that  house  ever  knew,  and  now  her  very  exist- 
ence is  forgotten  there,  but  her  picture  is  preserved 
because  '  she  had  rather  a  nice  Httle  dog.' " 

Tation  Park,  Dec.  2. — This  is  a  very  pleasant, 
roomy  country-house  in  an  ugly  park.  The  great 
feature  is  the  conservatories,  in  one  .of  which  a  gravel 
walk  winds  between  banks  of  rock  and  moss  and 
groves  of  tree-fern  like  a  scene  in  Tasmania. 

1  See  my  visit  in  1866. 

-  Afterwards  Mrs.  C.  Warren. 


460 


THE    STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


Lady  Egerton  ^  shows  to  great  advantage  in  her 
own  house.  On  small  subjects  her  conversation  is 
frivolous,  but  on  deeper  subjects  she  has  acute  ob- 
servation and  a  capital  manner  of  hitting  the  right 
nail  on  the  head,  and  she  certainly  gives  her  opinion 
without  respect  of  persons.  Yesterday,  Wilbraham 
Egerton  and  Lady  Mary  ^  dined,  the  latter  most  attrac- 
tive. Lady  Egerton  was  very  amusing,  especially  about 
old  Lady  Shaftesbury  and  her  having  'estabhshed  a 
lying-in  hospital  for  cats.' 

Dec,  4. — Yesterday  we  went  to  church  at  Rostherne. 
Going  through  the  park  gates,  Mrs.  Mitford  (Emily 
Egerton)  told  the  story  of  Dick  Turpin — whose  pro- 
pensities were  not  known  to  his  neighbours,  and 
who  constantly  dined  with  her  grandfather — having 
been  terrified  at  that  gate  one  night  as  he  rode 
away,  by  thinking  that  he  saw  the  ghost  of  one  of 
his  victims,  and  that  it  was  beheved  to  be  haunted 
ever  since. 

Rostherne  Church  stands  on  a  terrace  above  the 
mere,  into  which  one  of  its  bells  is  said  to  have  slipped 
down,  and  a  mermaid  is  supposed  to  come  up  and  ring 
it  whenever  one  of  the  family  at  Tatton  is  going  to 
die.  It  is  the  most  poetical  legend  in  Cheshire.  Old 
Mrs.  Egerton  ^  told  it  one  day  at  dinner.  A  short 
time  after,  the  butler  rushed  into  the  drawing-room, 
and  begged  the  gentlemen  of  the  house  to  come  and 
interfere,  for  two  of  the  under- servants  were  murdering 

^  Lady  CharloUe  Loftus,  eldest  daughter  of  John,  2nd  INIarqiiis  of 
Ely. 

'-^  Eldest  daughter  of  William  Pitt,  Earl  Amherst. 

^  Elizabeth,  second  daughter  of  Sir  Christopher  Sykes,  died  1853. 


876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


461 


one  another.  Mrs.  Egerton's  special  footman  had  told 
the  story  of  the  mermaid  in  the  servants'  hall,  and 
another  servant  denied  it.  The  footman  declared  that 
it  was  impossible  it  should  not  be  true,  for  his  mistress 
had  said  it,  and  a  desperate  fight  ensued. 

'^Miss  Wilbraham  1  is  here  from  Blyth — a  most 
pleasant,  easy,  natural  person,  who  draws  beautifully, 
and  makes  herself  most  agreeable. 

To-day  we  have  been  to  luncheon  at  Arley.  It  is 
a  noble  house,  raised  by  the  present  Mr.  Warburton 
on  the  site  of  an  old  moated  building,  which  was, 
however,  spoilt  before  his  time.  In  front  is  a  leaden 
statue  of  a  Moor,  like  those  at  Knowsley  and  Clement's 
Inn.  The  blind  Mr.  Warburton  wrote  the  well-known 
hunting  songs.  He  lived  through  his  eyes,  but  bears 
the  loss  of  them  with  a  noble  cheerfulness.  All  around 
are  devoted  to  him,  not  only  his  own  family,  but 
tenants  and  workmen,  and  it  is  a  touching  proof  of 
this,  that,  when  anything  new  is  to  be  constructed, 
the  workmen  always  make  a  '  blind  plan  ^  of  it,  that  he 
may  feel  and  know  it — a  bit  of  wood  representing  one 
kind  of  wall,  a  ridge  of  sealing  wax  another :  and  so 
he  is  still  the  adviser  and  soul  of  it  all. 

Mr.  Gladstone  is  an  old  friend  of  his,  and,  with 
silence  as  to  politics,  was  come  to  cheer  and  amuse 
him. 

Lady  Egerton  was  most  comical  with  Mr.  Gladstone. 
^  I  told  you  you  would  never  rest,'  she  said  ;  '  how  could 
you  be  so  stupid  as  to  think  it  ?  A  man  with  brains 
cannot  rest.    Now  how  can  you  have  come  to  do  such 

^  Eldest  sister  of  the  ist  Earl  of  Lathom. 
^  Egerton  Warburton,  Esq. 


462 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


a  number  of  foolish  things  ?  However,  if  I  was  you, 
I  would  quiet  down  :  indeed  I  do  not  despair  of  you 
yet/  At  luncheon  Mr.  Gladstone  said  she  did  a  good 
deal  of  work  in  a  very  short  time,  for  she  totally  de- 
molished the  Board  of  Education  and  the  Church  of 
England,  and  eventually  established  the  Pope  as  the 
head  of  Christianity  throughout  the  world. 

Before  luncheon,  Mr.  Warburton  took  me  away  to 
see  some  prints  in  the  library.  We  found  there  a  Mr. 
Yates,  a  clergyman,  and  there  was  a  most  animated 
and  interesting  conversation  between  him  and  Mr. 
Gladstone  on  the  logical  difference  between  ^Obedience* 
and  ^  Submission,'  which  Mr.  Yates  considered  to  be  the 
same  and  I  thought  so  too,  but  quite  see  from  Mr. 
Gladstone's  explanation  that  it  is  not  so.  He  illus- 
trated it  by  Strossmeyer,  who  was  quite  wilhng  to 
sub7nit  to  the  doctrine  of  Papal  infallibility,  but  turned 
restive  at  obedie7ice^  which  involved  subscription,  and 
prevented  any  power  of  antagonistic  action  on  his 
own  faith  any  more.  They  spoke  much  of  obedience 
to  the  decrees  of  a  judge  in  Church  matters.  Mr.  Glad- 
stone said  that  while  clergy  were  bound  to  submit  to  a 
judge's  decree,  and  while  they  had  no  right  to  inquire 
his  reasons  (two  judges  often  arriving  at  the  same 
decision  from  perfectly  different  reasons),  he  did  not 
see  why  they  might  not  state  that  the  views  they 
maintained,  according  to  their  own  conscience,  were 
at  variance  with  the  decision,  though,  as  members  of 
the  Church  of  England,  they  were  bound  to  submit 
to  it. 

Altogether,  it  was  a  very  interesting  visit,  and  I 
was  glad  Mr.  Gladstone  said  he  wished  it  had  not  been 


1876]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  463 

such  a  short  one.  He  and  Mrs.  Gladstone  were  both 
most  cordial. 

Here,  at  Tatton,  is  a  number  of  pictures  set  into 
panels  round  the  staircase,  fulHengths  of  Cheshire 
gentlemen,  moved  hither  from  Astbury  Hall,  where  the 
originals  met  to  decide  whether  they  should  rise  for 
Prince  Charlie,  and  finally  elected  not  to  risk  their 
estates.  In  the  dining-room  is  a  picture  of  a  hand 
shaking  out  an  empty  purse  by  Rubens,  signed ;  it 
was  sent  to  Charles  V.  when  he  had  forgotten  to  pay 
the  painter  for  his  work,  to  remind  him.  Lord  Egerton 
has  many  charming  miniatures  in  his  room,  and — a 
gift  to  one  of  his  ancestors — Queen  Elizabeth^s  '  horn- 
book,' being  the  alphabet  and  the  Lord's  Prayer  set  in 
a  frame  of  silver  filagree  and  covered  with  talc  (horn). 
He  told  us  of  some  one  who,  wishing  effectually  to 
protect  his  land  from  poachers,  put  up — ^Aspleniums 
and  Polypodiums  always  on  these  premises.'" 

Dec.  6. — Yesterday  we  drove  to  Wythenshawe.^ 
It  is  a  most  engaging  old  house,  very  well  restored, 
all  the  historical  points  retained — the  low  narrow  door 
inside  the  other,  through  which  the  defenders  forced 
the  conquerors  to  pass  as  their  condition  of  surrender 
after  their  siege  by  the  Commonwealth,  when  the 
family  was  heavily  fined :  the  ghost-room,  where  a 
soldier  shot  in  the  siege  still  appears  :  the  difference 
in  the  panelling  of  the  oak  drawing-room,  where  the 
panels  were  smashed  in  by  a  cannon-ball.  There  is 
another  ghost — a  ghastly  face  of  a  lady,  who  draws  the 

^  A  family  home.  In  1807  Thomas  Tatton  of  Wythenshawe  married 
my  mother's  first  cousin,  Emma,  daughter  of  the  Hon.  John  Grey. 


464 


THE   STORY  OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


curtains  and  looks  in  upon  a  bride  on  the  first  night 
she  sleeps  in  the  house  after  her  marriage :  the  late 
Mrs.  Tatton  saw  it/'  ^ 

Betton  House  J  Dec.  9. — Wednesday  morning  was 
lovely.  We  drove  to  Rostherne  Manor,  Lady  Mary 
Egerton's  charming  modern  house,  with  a  lovely  view 
over  the  wide  shining  mere  to  the  Derbyshire  hills ;  on 
the  right,  the  church  tower  on  a  wooded  hill,  and  in 
the  foreground  the  terraced  garden  with  an  old  leaden 
figure  of  Mercury. 

I  came  away  to  Hodnet,  where  the  great  new  house 
perfectly  swarmed  with  Heber  Percy  cousins,  and  next 
morning  I  went  with  Ethel  Hood  to  Stoke.  There  is 
nothing  but  the  ghost  of  our  memories  there  now — 
even  the  church  pulled  down,  all  that  made  the  place 
touching  or  beautiful  to  us  swept  away." 

Bettofij  Dec.  10. — It  has  been  a  great  pleasure  to 
go  to  church  with  the  Tayleurs  at  dear  old  Market 
Drayton,  and  to  sit  in  the  great  green  baize  room  in 
the  family  gallery,  with  a  large  fire  burning  in  an  open 
hearth — a  pleasant  contrast  to  the  wretched  open  seats 
which  are  the  fashion  now,  though  it  might  recall  the 
exclamation  of  a  Frenchman  on  seeing  a  similar  pew — 
'  Pardi !  on  sert  Dieu  bien  a  son  aise  ici.'  Yet  even 
at  Drayton  the  respectable  red-cloaked  singers  have 
given  place  to  bawling  choristers. 

I  always  feel,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  winding 
Terne,  as  if  I  were  carried  back  into  my  child-life 

1  Harriet  Susan,  eldest  daughter  of  Robert  Townley  Parker  of 
Cuerden  Hall. 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


465 


with  my  dear  adopted  grandparents,  the  one  happy 
part  of  my  boyhood,  so  different  from  the  many  bitter 
days  at  Hurstmonceaux." 

Sherborne  Parky  Dec.  12. — At  Bourton-on-the- 
Water  were  many  people  waiting.  In  the  dark  I 
recognised  Lord  and  Lady  Denbigh,  and  then  a  young 
lady  came  up  with  her  husband  and  spoke  to  me. 

cannot  see  in  the  least  who  you  are.' — ^Oh,  then 
I  shall  leave  you  to  guess,  and  you  will  find  out  by- 
and-by.'  It  was  Sir  Garnet  and  Lady  Wolseley. 
With  him  and  Lord  Powerscourt,  and  a  fat  old  gentle- 
man much  muffled  up,  whom  I  took  for  Sir  Hastings 
Doyle,  and  who  turned  out  to  be  Mr.  Alfred  Denison, 
I  travelled  in  a  carriage  to  Sherborne.  It  is  a  very 
fine  house  of  Inigo  Jones,  of  rich  yellow  stone,  with 
short  fluted  columns  between  the  windows ;  but  in 
effect  it  is  overwhelmed  by  the  church,  which  is  close 
upon  it,  and  crushes  it  with  its  spire.  The  living 
rooms  are  delightfully  large,  airy,  and  filled  with 
books,  flowers,  and  pictures. 

I  had  a  pleasant  dinner,  seated  by  Mr.  Denison, 
who  told  me  much  about  his  curious  collection  of  books 
on  angling,  of  which  he  has  some  of  the  early  part  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  and  about  5C0  editions  of  Izaak 
Walton.  He  has  even  a  Latin  treatise  on  the  Devil's 
fishery  for  souls.  He  was  just  come  from  Chatsworth, 
and  had  seen  there  a  volume  for  which  12,000 
had  been  refused,  the  original  of  Claude's  'Liber 
Veritatis.' 

Lord  Sherborne  is  both  very  fond  and  very  proud 
of  his  wife,  but  her  music  he  pretends  to  detest,  though 
VOL.  IV.  2  G 


466 


THE    STORY    OF    MY  LIFE 


[1876 


her  singing  is  quite  lovely — not  much  voice^  but  in- 
tense pathos  and  expression. 

This  afternoon  I  have  been  with  Miss  Button  and 
charming  Miss  Ruth  Bouverie  to  the  old  chase  and 
the  deer-park,  in  which  there  is  a  beautiful  deserted 
hunting-lodge  by  Inigo  Jones.  Lady  Sherborne  wanted 
to  make  a  garden  in  front  of  it,  but  was  only  allowed 
by  her  lord  to  have  grass  instead  of  potatoes.  We 
also  went  into  the  church  adjoining  the  house,  which 
contains  many  family  monuments.  The  most  remark- 
able is  that  of  John  Button,  who  was  ^  possessed  of 
large  estate  and  of  mind  aequall  to  his  fortune ;  ^  yet 
he  lost  a  great  part  of  his  estates  by  gambling,  and 
staked  Sherborne  too,  and  would  have  lost  it  if  he  had 
not  been  carried  off  to  bed  by  his  butler. 

Speaking  of  concealment  of  the  whole  truth.  Miss 
Button  related  a  story  her  uncle,  John  Button,  used 
to  tell  of  the  French  governess  sliding  on  the  ice, 
when  one  of  the  children  said  to  her,  ^  Mr.  Lentil 
said.  Mademoiselle,  that  he  hoped  the  bo^^s  would 
trip  you  up  upon  the  ice,  and  I  really  could  not 
tell  you  what  Mr.  Bavis  said.'  Mr.  Bavis  had 
said  nothings  but  the  intended  impression  was  con- 
veyed. 

I  forget  how,  apropos  of  Bible  ignorance,  Miss 
Button  told  of  an  American,  who,  entering  a  coffee- 
house at  New  York,  saw  a  Jew  there,  and  seized 
him  violently  by  the  throat.  '  What,  wh — at  do  you  do 
that  for  !  '  exclaimed  the  nigh  strangled  Jew. — ^  Because 
you  crucified  my  Lord.' — ^But  all  that  happened  more 
than  1800  years  ago.' — ^  That  does  not  matter  ;  I  have 
only  just  heard  of  it.'  " 


1 876] 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


467 


Dec.  14. — Yesterday  we  went  to  Biberry,  a  beauti- 
ful old  house  of  Lord  Sherborne's.  Mr.  and  Lady 
Augusta  Noel  joined  the  party  in  the  evening,  she 
a  Keppel/  the  authoress  of  '  Wandering  Willie/  and 
very  pleasant.  Several  neighbours  came  to  dinner. 
The  astronomical  conversation  of  Mr.  Noel  was  very 
engaging.  I  deduced  from  it  that  the  flames  in  the 
sun  were  96,000  miles  long,  and  that  we  were  all 
liable  to  meet  our  end  in  three  ways — i.e.^  by  going 
fizz  if  a  particle  of  the  sun  as  big  as  this  room  ') 
broke  off  and  struck  the  earth  in  any  direction  :  by 
being  slowly  consumed,  the  pools  drying  and  the  trees 
shrivelling  up  :  or  by  being  gradually  frozen  under 
an  ice-wave.  The  earth  has  already  perished  once 
by  the  last-named  contingency,  and  there  are  geologi- 
cal features,  especially  at  Lord  Lansdowne's  place  in 
Ireland,  which  prove  it." 

Osterley^  Dec.  16. — I  came  here  about  tea-time  to 
what  Horace  Walpole  calls  '  the  Palace  of  Palaces.' 
It  is  a  magnificent  house.  Sir  Thomas  Gresham  was 
the  original  builder,  and  entertained  Queen  Elizabeth 
here.  Then  it  passed  through  various  hands  till  it 
fell  to  the  Childs,  for  whom  it  was  partially  rebuilt 
and  splendidly  fitted  up  by  the  brothers  Adam.  An 
immense  flight  of  steps  leads  through  an  open  portico 
to  a  three-sided  court,  beneath  which  is  the  basement 
storey,  and  from  which  open  the  hall  and  the  prin- 
cipal rooms.  There  is  a  gallery  like  that  at  Temple 
Newsam,  but  much  longer  and  finer,  and  in  this  case 
it  is  broken  and  partitioned  by  bookcases  into  pleasant 

^  Fourth  daughter  of  the  6th  Earl  of  Albemarle. 


468 


THE  STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


corners — almost  separate  rooms.  The  walls  and  ceil- 
ings are  ornamented  with  paintings  (let  in)  by  Zucchi 
and  Angelica  Kaiiffmann,  but  the  great  charm  lies  in 
the  marvellous  variety,  delicacy,  and  simplicity  of  the 
wood  carvings,  each  shutter  and  cornice  a  different 
design,  but  a  single  piece.  In  one  room  are  exquisite 
pink  Gobelins,  the  chairs  quite  lovely  ;  one  of  them 
represents  a  little  girl  crying  over  the  empty  cage  of 
her  lost  bird  ;  on  its  companion  a  little  boy  has  caught 
the  bird  and  is  rushing  to  restore  it  to  her.  There 
is  a  fine  picture  of  Lady  Westmoreland,  Robert  Child's 
daughter.  When  Lord  Westmoreland,  whom  he  con- 
sidered a  hopeless  ne'er-do-weel,  asked  for  her  hand, 
he  had  firmly  refused  it ;  but  when  Lord  Westmore- 
land some  time  after  took  him  unawares  with  the  ques- 
tion, ^  Now,  if  you  were  in  love  with  a  beautiful  girl,  and 
her  father  would  not  consent  to  your  marrying  her,  what 
would  you  do  ?  '  answered,  *  Run  away  with  her,  to 
be  sure.'  Lord  Westmoreland  took  him  at  his  word, 
and  eloped  with  Miss  Child  in  a  coach-and-four  from 
Berkeley  Square;  and  when,  near  Gretna  Green,  he 
saw  that  the  horses  of  his  father-in-law,  in  hot  pursuit, 
were  gaining  upon  him,  he  stood  up  in  the  carriage 
and  shot  the  leader  dead,  and  so  gained  his  bride. 

^^The  Duchess  Caroline  (of  Cleveland)  was  often 
here  with  Lady  Jersey,  and,  when  she  sold  her  own 
place  of  Downham,  determined  to  rent  Osterley.  Since 
then,  though  only  a  tenant,  she  has  cared  for  it  far 
more  than  its  owner.  Lord  Jersey,  and  has  done  much 
to  beautify  and  keep  it  up.  Only  Miss  Newton  and 
Mr.  Spencer  Lyttelton  ^  are  here,  the  latter  with  tre- 

^  Second  son  of  the  3rd  Lord  Lyttellon  and  Lady  Sarah  Spencer. 


876] 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


469 


mendous  spirits,  which  carry  him  he  knows  not  where. 
The  Duchess  is  very  amusing.  Ordering  a  very 
good  fire  to  be  made  up  in  church,  she  added  drily  to 
the  servant,  'Just  such  a  fire  as  you  make  up  on  a 
very  hot  day,  you  know.'  She  mentioned  a  clever 
mot  of  Count  Nesselrode.  Speaking  of  Sir  William 
Wallace's  marriage  he  said,  'II  avait  une  mauvaise 
habitude,  et  depuis  il  a  epouse  cette  habitude.' " 

Dec.  17. — The  Duchess  is  a  most  interesting  rem- 
nant of  bygone  times.  She  is  so  easily  put  out  by 
any  one  doing  too  much,  that  every  one  at  luncheon 
was  afraid  to  get  up  and  ring  the  bell  for  her,  till  she 
was  close  to  the  bell  herself,  when  a  nervous  young 
man  jumped  up  and  rang  it  before  she  could  reach  it. 
'  Sir,  ofificiousness  is  not  politeness,'  she  said  very 
slowly  and  forcibly. 

''  To  young  ladies  she  frequently  says,  '  My  dear, 
never  marry  for  love :  you  will  repent  it  if  you  do  ; 
I  did : '  and  yet  she  was  fond  of  her  Lord  William. 

''  Mr.  Spencer  Lyttelton  rails  at  everything  super- 
natural, so  we  spoke  of  the  story  in  his  own  family, 
and  he  told  us  the  facts  of  the  Lyttelton  ghost,  de- 
claring that  everything  added  to  them  about  altering 
the  clock,  &c.,  was  absolutely  fictitious. 

''  '  Thomas,  Lord  Lyttelton,  my  father's  first  cousin, 
was  at  Peel  House,  near  Epsom,  when  a  woman  with 
whom  he  had  lived  seemed  to  appear  to  him.  He 
spoke  of  it  to  some  friends — the  Misses  Amphlett — and 
said  that  the  spirit  had  said  he  should  die  in  three 
days,  and  that  he  believed  that  he  should  certainly  do 
so.    Nevertheless,  on  the  following  day — he  went  up 


470 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1876 


to  London,  and  made  one  of  his  most  brilliant  speeches, 
for  he  was  a  really  great  speaker — in  the  House  of 
Lords.  He  was  not  well  at  the  time.  On  the  third 
evening,  his  servant,  after  the  custom  of  that  time, 
was  in  his  room  assisting  him  to  undress.  When 
the  clock  struck  twelve.  Lord  Lyttelton  counted  the 
strokes,  and  when  it  came  to  the  last,  exclaimed,  I 
have  cheated  the  ghost,"  and  fell  down  dead  :  he  must 
have  had  something  the  matter  with  his  heart.' 

Hinchinbroke^  Dec,  26. —  Lord  Sandwich  is  a 
charmingly  courteous  host,  and  Lady  Sandwich  a 
warm,  pleasant  friend.  The  three  sons,  Hinchinbroke, 
Victor,  and  Oliver,  are  all  cheery,  kindly,  and  amus- 
ing. ^You  see  what  a  set  you've  landed  amongst,' 
said  Lord  Sandwich;  Mt  will  take  you  some  time  to 
know  them.'  Agneta  Montagu  is  here  with  her  charm- 
ing children ;  Lady  Honoria  Cadogan ;  Miss  Corry, 
a  handsome,  natural,  lively  lady-in-waiting  to  the 
Duchess  of  Edinburgh ;  and  the  kind  old  Duchess 
Caroline,  with  relays  of  walking-sticks,  which  she 
changes  with  her  caps  for  the  different  hours  of  the. 
day. 

Yesterday  I  went  with  Miss  Corry  and  Hinchin- 
broke to  Huntingdon,  a  picturesque  old  town  on  the 
sleepy  Ouse.  In  the  market-place,  opposite  the  prin- 
cipal church,  is  the  old  grammar-school  where  Ohver 
Cromwell  was  educated.  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault,  of  theat- 
rical fame,  is  going  to  restore  it  in  memory  of  his  son, 
killed  hard  by  in  the  Abbots  Repton  railway  accident, 
and  is  going  to  destroy  the  one  characteristic  feature  of 
the  place — the  high  gable  front  of  twisted  and  moulded 


1 877] 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


471 


brick,  which  recalls  Holland  and  records  the  Flemish 
settlers  in  the  Fen  country.'^ 

Christmas  Day. — The  damp,  sleepy  weather  is  far 
from  an  ideal  Christmas,  but  I  have  liked  being  here 
in  spite  of  a  miserable  cold,  and  being  accepted  as  a 
sort  of  relation  by  this  warm-hearted  family."^ 

Ascot  Woodj  Ja7i.  22,  1877. — I  have  been  work- 
ing quietly  at  home  for  nearly  three  weeks — a  halt  in 
life  as  far  as  the  outer  world  is  concerned ;  and  how 
good  these  silences  are,  when,  from  the  turmoil  of  the 
living  present,  one  can  retire  into  the  companionship 
of  a  dead  past — past  associations,  past  interests,  passed- 
away  friends,  who,  though  dead,  are  living  for  ever  in 
the  innermost  shrines  of  one^s  heart,  of  which  the 
general  world  knows  nothing,  at  which  very  few  care 
to  knock ;  which,  even  to  those  who  knock,  are  so 
seldom  opened. 

I  have  almost  a  pang  when  one  of  these  breaks 
comes  to  an  end,  and  the  outside  world  rushes  in.  ^  On 
ne  se  detache  jamais  sans  douleur.'^  But  it  was  a 
great  pleasure  to  come  here  again  to  the  companion- 
ship of  this  perfectly  congenial  cousinhood.  Sir  John 
Lefevre,  as  usual,  is  full  of  interesting  conversation — not 
general,  but  with  the  one  person  next  him,  and  that  one 
is  generally  myself !  He  described  a  visit  in  Sussex 
at  Sir  Peckam  Micklethwait^s  (*  a  man  with  other  and 
more  wonderful  names  ').^    When  the  Princess  Victoria 

^  Lady  Agneta  Montagu  was  one  of  the  daughters  of  Susan,  Coun- 
tess of  Hardwicke,  my  mother's  first  cousin. 
Pascal. 

^  Sotherton  Peckliam  Branthwayt  Micklethwait. 


472 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1877 


was  at  Hastings  with  the  Duchess  of  Kent,  their  horses 
ran  away.  They  were  in  the  greatest  peril,  when  Mr. 
Micklethwait,  who  was  a  huge  and  powerful  man, 
stood  in  the  way,  and  seized  and  grappled  with  the 
horses  with  his  tremendous  strength,  and  they  were 
saved.  One  of  the  first  things  the  Queen  did  when 
she  came  to  the  throne  was  to  make  him  a  baronet. 

''Sir  John  said  how  few  people  there  were  now 
who  remembered  the  origin  of  the  word  '  fly  ^  as 
applied  to  a  carriage.  In  the  last  century  people 
almost  always  went  out  to  parties  in  sedan-chairs — 
a  great  fatigue  and  trouble  to  their  bearers.  Gradu- 
ally the  sedans  had  wheels,  and  were  drawn.  Then 
it  began  to  dawn  upon  people  to  substitute  a  horse  for 
a  man.  At  that  time  the  '  Midsummer  Night's  Dream ' 
was  being  acted  and  very  popular,  and,  in  allusion  to 
a  line  in  it,  the  new  carriages  were  called  '  Fly-by- 
Night.'  Then  the  sobriquet  was  abridged — 'by  night' 
was  omitted,  but '  fly  '  remained.  Sir  John  remembered, 
when  flys  were  first  invented,  meeting  a  man  who  said 
he  had  just  '  encountered  '  a  fly  with  a  wasp  inside  and 
a  bee  (B)  outside.     It  was  Lord  Brougham's  carriage. 

"We  went  this  afternoon  to  Lady  Julia  Lock- 
wood's.^  Her  odd  little  house  is  quite  full  of  rehcs 
of  her  sister,  the  Duchess  of  Inverness — the  Queen's 
'Aunt  Buggin,'  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Sussex. 

"To-night,  talking  of  my  Httle  diaries,  Sir  John 
said  that  he  had  a  name  for  them — 'Seniority' — 
adapted  from  Nassau  Senior's  journals.  When  Senior 
went  about,  however,  people  knew  that  what  they  said 

^  Third  daughter  of  the  2nd  Earl  of  Arran  by  his  third  wife,  Elizabetli 
Underwood. 


IcS;;]  LONDON    WALKS    AND    SOCIETY  473 

would  be  taken  down,  so  acted  accordingly,  and  pro- 
duced their  sentiments  and  opinions  as  they  wished 
them  to  be  permanently  represented.  The  Khedive 
was  told  what  Mr.  Senior  would  do  before  he  was 
admitted  to  his  interview.  '  Oh,  yes,  I  quite  under- 
stand,^ said  the  Khedive;  'Mr.  Senior  is  the  trumpet, 
and  I  am  to  blow  down  it.' 

Sir  John  described  how  in  the  Upper  House  of 
Convocation  the  members  amused  their  leisure  moments 
by  suiting  each  of  the  bishops  with  texts.  That  for 
the  Archbishop  of  York  ^  was,  '  And  she  was  a 
Greek ; '  for  Bishop  Wilberforce,  '  She  brought  him 
butter  in  a  lordly  dish.'  " 

Jan,  24. — When  I  arrived  at  the  Ascot  station,  a 
little  lady  was  there,  with  ghstening  silver  hair,  wait- 
ing to  go  up  to  the  house.  It  was  Mrs.  William  Grey. 
She  was  here  two  days  and  very  pleasant — a  bright, 
active,  simple  mind,  which  finds  its  vent  in  excitement 
for  the  superior  education  of  women. 

Yesterday  we  went  to  Windsor  for  the  day.  We 
went  to  the  castle  library,  where  Natalli,  the  sub- 
librarian, showed  us  everything.  It  is  very  interesting 
regarded  merely  as  a  building — not  one  room,  but  a 
succession  of  rooms,  irregularly  added  as  space  allowed 
and  comfort  dictated,  by  a  succession  of  sovereigns. 
Queen  Elizabeth's  library  (the  only  part  of  the  castle 
unaltered  outside)  has  an  old  chimney-piece  of  her 
time,  into  which  the  Prince  Consort  cleverly  inserted  a 
bust  from  her  figure  by  Cornelius  Cure,  and  it  once 

^  Dr.  William  Thompson,  Archbishop  of  York,  married  Miss  Zoe 
Skene,  a  beautiful  Greek. 


474 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


had  a  ceiling  painted  by  Verrio,  which  was  destroyed 
by  William  IV.,  who  put  up  a  stucco  ceihng  instead.  Of 
Anne  there  is  the  charming  little  boudoir,  where  she 
was  sitting  with  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough  when  a 
letter  (a  facsimile  of  which  is  preserved  there)  was 
brought  in  from  the  Duke  telling  of  the  victory  of 
Blenheim.  The  later  rooms  are  of  George  III.  and 
William  IV.  We  saw  Miles  Coverdale's  Bible,  all  the 
early  editions  of  Shakspeare,  Charles  I.'s  Prayer- 
book,  Elizabeth's  Prayer-book,  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
'  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel '  with  his  corrections  and 
alterations  ;  but  better  far  was  the  view  from  the  end 
window,  with  the  terrace  and  its  final  tower  standing 
out  in  burly  shadow  against  the  misty  and  flooded 
country." 

Thorpe^  Jan.  26. — We  went  to-day  to  St.  Anne's 
Hill.  Lady  Holland  was  sitting  in  the  innermost  of 
the  richly  furnished  bright  warm  little  rooms,  but  was 
bandaged  up  still  from  a  frightful  fall  she  had  received 
by  mistaking  a  staircase  for  a  passage  in  the  dark. 
One  always  feels  one's  own  talk  on  waggon-wheels 
with  a  person  who  has  the  conversational  reputation 
she  has,  and  I  was  glad  when  Madame  de  Jarnac 
came  in  and  undertook  to  show  us  the  house.  Lady 
Holland  followed,  and  took  us  to  her  bedroom,  which 
is  charming,  with  a  view  towards  Chobham.  Then 
we  went  to  the  gardens,  with  a  temple  to  Friendship 
[i.e.y  to  Lord  Holland's  friendship),  and  the  summer- 
house  in  which  the  preliminaries  of  the  Peace  of 
Amiens  were  signed.  Other  summer-houses  are  paved 
with  encaustic  tiles  from  Chertsey  Abbe}^" 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


475 


^^69  Onslow  Square^  Jan.  27. — Mr.  Byng  preached 
a  capital  sermon  to-day  upon  '  religious  hypochon- 
driacs ' — people  who  say,  ^  You  know  I  was  always  so 
spoilt  when  I  was  a  child,  you  must  make  allowance 
for  my  being  a  little  selfish  now/  &c." 

^^6  Btiry  Street^  Feb.  13. — Last  night  I  dined  with 
the  Haygarths,  to  meet  the  Woods  and  Leslies.  The 
Dowager  Lady  Spencer  ^  was  there,  who  gave  an 
amusing  account  of  her  Irish  experiences,  when  her 
stepson  was  Lord  Lieutenant.  One  day  he  was 
hunting,  and  had  just  leapt  a  hedge  into  a  lane,  when 
he  was  aware  that  a  funeral  was  coming  up.  He 
thought  it  might  hurt  the  feelings  of  the  mourners 
if  he  passed  them  hunting,  so  he  hid  himself.  But 
as  the  funeral  came  by  the  hounds  appeared,  and 
instantly,  setting  the  coffin  down  in  the  road, 
mourners,  pall-bearers,  and  all  started  in  hot  pur- 
suit, and  Lord  Spencer  found  himself  left  alone  with 
the  body. 

Lady  Spencer  talked  of  one  Irish  gentleman,  a 
Master  of  Hounds,  who,  being  very  much  puzzled  by 
the  two  Lady  Spencers,  and  how  to  distinguish  them, 
settled  the  matter  by  calling  them,  like  dogs,  one 
^  Countess,^  and  the  other  'Dowager.^  'The  absurdity 
never  struck  me  much,'  she  said,  'till  the  last  day  of 
all,  when  Charlotte's  eyes  were  so  red  with  crying, 
and  he,  coming  in,  exclaimed,  ''  Dowager,  Dowager, 
what  can  we  do  to  comfort  Countess  ?  " ' 

''  I  have  just  been  with  Lady  Halifax  and  the  Corrys 

^  Adelaide  IToratia  Seymour,  Countess  Spencer,  who  died  October 
1877. 


476 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1877 


to  see  the  Duke  of  Suffolk's  head  at  the  church  in  the 
Minories — a  most  awful  object. 

'^Mr.  Bodley^  told  us  last  night  that  when  he  was 
staying  at  St.  John's  College,  Oxford,  he  saw  a  ghost. 
He  could  swear  to  it.  He  was  in  a  room  which  was 
in  the  broad  moonlight  of  a  summer's  night,  for  it  had 
no  shutters.  Suddenly  he  heard  a  movement  like  that 
of  a  man  under  the  bed,  and  then  something  thrown 
on  the  floor  like  a  stick.  He  jumped  up,  but  there 
was  nothing.  He  then  went  to  bed  again,  when  out 
of  the  floor  in  the  moonhght  rose  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  a  man.  He  saw  it  against  the  chest  of 
drawers.  It  hid  two  of  the  handles  of  the  drawers, 
but  not  more.  Farther  than  that  out  of  the  ground 
it  did  not  rise.  He  is  quite  certain  that  he  saw  it, 
and  quite  certain  that  he  was  awake." 

Feb.  14. — Luncheon  at  Miss  Davenport  Bromley's 
to  meet  Mr.  Portal.  Lord  Houghton  and  his  son  and 
daughter  were  there.  Mr.  Portal  has  a  scheme  for 
educating  the  unfortunate  Americans  of  gentle  birth 
who  have  fallen  from  wealth  to  poverty  owing  to  the 
changes  on  the  cessation  of  the  slave  trade  in  South 
Carolina,  and  he  has  been  eminently  successful.  He 
described  the  South  Carolina  reverses  of  fortune 
as  most  extraordinary.  One  of  his  friends  died  in 
his  house  who  had  once  possessed  an  estate  worth 
^^"300, 000;  yet,  when  his  will  was  opened,  it  only 
contained  these  words — ^  I  leave  to  the  old  and  tried 

friend  of  my  youth,  the  Rev.  Portal,  my  only  son  ! ' 

He  had  nothing  else  whatever  to  leave  except  £g 

^  The  well-known  architect. 


1877]  LONDON    WALKS    AND    SOCIETY  4/7 

towards  his  funeral  expenses.  Mr.  Portal  described 
how  the  'darkies'  had  been  'done  'since  the  change 
by  those  who  had  too  much  of  the  theory  of  religion 
to  have  any  power  left  for  the  practice  of  it.  Being 
at  a  place  on  the  border,  where  some  of  the  greatest 
battles  were,  he  asked  some  of  the  '  darkies '  why, 
when  they  saw  the  Northerners  gaining  the  upper 
hand,  they  did  not  join  them.  A  '  darkie '  said, 
'  Mossieu,  did  you  ever  see  two  dogs  fighting  for  a 
bone?' — 'Yes,  very  often.' — 'But,  Mossieu,  did  you 
ever  see  the  bone  fight  ? ' 

"The  conversation  fell  on  Philadelphia,  'the  most 
conservative  place  in  America,  with  its  narrow  streets 
and  narrow  notions.'  Lord  Houghton  said  that  his 
son  Robin  had  been  shocked  by  the  non-observance 
of  Sunday  in  the  native  city  of  Moody  and  Sankey. 
Mr.  Portal  said  that  Moody  and  Sankey  were  utterly 
unknown,  entirel}^  without  influence  in  their  own 
country ;  that  it  could  only  be  the  most  enormous 
amount  of  American  cheek  which  had  enabled  them 
to  come  over  to  England,  '  exactly  as  if  it  was  a 
heathen  country,  to  bring  the  light  of  the  Gospel  to 
the  English ; '  that  America  had  heard  with  amaze- 
ment and  shock  how  they  were  run  after ;  that  they 
owed  their  success  partly  to  their  cheek,  and  partly 
to  their  music. 

"  Mr.  Portal  described  his  feeling  of  desolation  when 
he  first  arrived  in  England — 'not  one  soul  he  knew 
amongst  all  these  millions ; '  that  the  next  day  a  lady 
asked  him  to  conduct  her  and  her  child  to  a  pantomime. 
He  consented,  without  understanding  that  a  pantomime 
meant  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  and  his  horror  was  intense 


478 


THE   STORY   OF    MY  LIFE 


[1877 


when  he  ^  found  himself,  a  clergyman  of  forty  years' 
standing/  in  such  a  place.  This,  however,  was  nothing 
to  what  he  felt  ^  when  a  troop  of  half-naked  women 
rushed  in  and  began  to  throw  up  their  legs  into  the 
air;'  he  ^  could  have  sunk  into  the  ground  for  shame.' 
^  Was  not  the  mother  of  our  Lord  a  woman  ?  was  not 
my  mother  a  woman  ?  is  not  my  wife  a  woman  ?  are 
not  my  daughters  women  ?  and  what  are  these  ?  ' 

Mr.  Knowles,  the  ex-editor  of  the  Contemporary 
RevieWj  who  was  at  luncheon,  said  that  he  had  taken 
Alfred  Tennyson  to  see  a  ballet  with  just  the  same  effect. 
When  the  ballet-girls  trooped  in  wearing  ^  une  robe 
qui  ne  commence  qu'a  peine,  et  qui  finit  tout  de  suite,' 
Tennyson  had  rushed  at  once  out  of  the  box,  walked 
up  and  down  in  an  agony  over  the  degradation  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  nothing  would  induce  him  to 
go  in  again.  Mr.  Knowles  said,  however,  that  a  general 
improvement  in  the  stage  had  dated  from  a  climax  of 
impropriety  in  ^  Bedel  and  Bijou : '  it  had  since  been 
much  leavened  by  Irving.  Lord  Houghton  described 
how  much  of  Irving's  success  had  been  due  to  the 
entirely  original  view  he  had  taken  of  his  characters ; 
that  in  Hamlet  he  had  taken  ^  the  domestic  view,  not 
declaiming,  but  pondering,  saying  things  meditatively 
with  his  legs  over  a  chair-back.'" 

.  Feb.  24. — I  have  been  seeing  a  great  deal  of  Willie 
Milligan  lately,  and  cannot  help  thinking  of  the  charac- 
teristics so  distinctive  of  him  whom  for  twenty-six 
years  I  have  never  ceased  to  feel  honoured  in  being 
allowed  to  call  my  intimate  friend. 

He  is  a  thorough-bred  gentleman  in  all  the  highest 


LONDON    WALKS    AND  SOCIETY 


479 


senses  of  the  term.  Always  without  riches,  he  has 
never  complained  of  having  less  than  was  sufficient 
for  his  wants,  which  are  most  modest.  Without  being 
cultivated,  he  is  very  clever.  He  never  talks  religion, 
but  his  life  is  thoroughly  christian.  He  is  the  soul 
of  honour,  pure,  truthful,  blameless,  and  without  re- 
proach ;  yet  in  conversation  no  one  is  more  witty, 
original,  and  amusing.  He  is  celebrated  as  a  peace- 
maker, and  never  fails  to  show  that  chivalry  is  the 
truest  wisdom.  He  has  never  done  a  selfish  act, 
and  never  omitted  to  do  a  kind  one." 

Feb.  25. — A  visit  to  Mrs.  Lowe.  She  talked  of 
the  contemptible  state  of  politics  now ;  that  it  was  all 
only  playing  at  the  old  game  of  brag;  that  the  object 
with  every  one  seems  to  be  who  can  tell  most  lies,  and 
who  can  get  any  one  to  believe  his  lies  most  easily.  If 
she  Svas  minister  it  would  be  different ;  she  would  nail 
men  down  to  a  point — what  will  you  do  and  what  will 
you  not  do  ?  and  have  a  direct  answer;  then  one  would 
know  how  to  act.^ 

Mr.  Lowe  described  his  life  in  Australia.  Money 
then  scarcely  existed  there :  payments  were  made 
either  in  kind  or  in  bills  of  exchange.  He  said, 
^  When  we  played  whist,  we  played  sheep,  with  bullocks 
on  the  rubber ;  and  when  a  man  won  much,  he  had 
to  hire  a  field  next  morning  to  put  his  winnings  in.'  " 

Feb.  28. —  A  charming  visit  to  old  Lord  John 
Thynne,  who  told  me  many  of  his  delightful  reminis- 
cences of  Sydney  Smith,  Milman,  and  others. 

'^Then  to  Mrs.  Duncan  Stewart,  who  was  sitting 


48o 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


[1877 


almost  on  the  ground,  covered  with  an  eider-down. 
She  talked  of  our  ^  Memorials  ^  and  of  Mrs.  Grote,  who 
said,  when  she  read  of  the  dear  mother's  marvellous 
trances,  '  My  dear,  she  was  thinking  more  than  was  good 
for  her ;  so  God  in  His  great  mercy  gave  her  chloro- 
form.' She  spoke  of  the  difficulties  of  a  like  faith,  of  the 
effort  of  keeping  it  up  when  prayer  was  no^  answered, 
believing  in  the  power  of  prayer  just  the  same.  She 
told  how,  when  her  child  was  dying — she  knew  it  must 
die — the  clergyman  came  (it  was  at  Wimbledon)  and 
used  to  kneel  by  the  table  and  pray  that  resignation 
might  be  given  to  the  mother  to  bear  the  parting,  and 
resignation  to  the  child  to  die ;  and  how  she  listened 
and  prayed  too ;  and  yet,  at  the  end,  she  could  not  feel 
it.  She  did  not,  and — though  she  knew  it  was  im- 
possible— she  could  not  but  break  in  with,  ^  Yet,  O 
Lord,  yet  restore  her.' 

'''Do  you  know,'  said  Mrs.  Stewart,  'that  till  I  was 
thirty,  I  had  never  seen  death — never  seen  it  even  in 
a  poor  person ;  then  I  saw  it  in  my  own  child,  and  I 
may  truly  say  that  then  Death  entered  into  the  world 
for  me  as  truly  as  it  did  for  Eve,  and  it  never  left  me 
afterwards — never.  If  one  of  my  children  had  an  ache 
afterwards,  I  thought  it  was  going  to  die ;  if  I  awoke 
in  the  night  and  looked  at  my  husband  in  his  sleep,  I 
thought — "  He  will  look  like  that  when  he  is  dead." 

"  '  Do  not  think  I  murmur,  but  life  is  very  trying 
when  one  knows  so  little  of  the  beyond.  The  clergy- 
man's wife  has  just  been,  and  she  said,  "  But  you 
must  beHeve  ;  you  must  believe  Scripture  literally;  you 
must  believe  all  it  says  to  the  letter."  But  I  cannot 
believe  literally :  one  can  only  use  the  faith  one  has. 


1877]  LONDON    WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  48  1 

I  have  not  the  faith  which  moves  mountains.  I  have 
prayed  that  the  mountains  might  move,  with  all  the 
faith  that  was  in  me — oM ;  but  the  mountains  did  not 
move.  No,  I  cannot  pray  with  the  faith  which  is  not 
granted  me. 

^  I  think  that  I  believe  all  the  promises  of  Scrip- 
ture ;  yet  when  I  think  of  Death,  I  hesitate  to  wish  to 
leave  the  certainty  here  for  what  is — yes,  must  be — the 
uncertainty  beyond.  Yet  lately,  when  I  was  so  ill, 
when  I  continued  to  go  down  and  down  into  the  very 
depths,  I  felt  I  had  got  so  far — so  very  far,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  travel  all  that  way  again — ^^Oh,  let  me 
go  through  the  gates  now."  And  then  the  comforting 
thought  came  that  perhaps  after  all  it  might  not  be  the 
will  of  God  that  I  should  travel  the  sa^ne  way  again, 
and  that  when  He  leads  me  up  to  the  gates  for  the  last 
time,  it  might  be  His  will  to  lead  me  by  some  other, 
by  some  quite  different  way.'" 

March  4. — Breakfast  with  Lord  Houghton — a  plea- 
sant male  party  —  Dr.  Ralston,  Henry  James  the 
American  novelist,  Sir  Samuel  Baker,  and  three  others. 
Harriet  Martineau's  Memoirs  had  just  arrived,  and  were 
a  great  topic.  Lord  Houghton,  who  had  known  her 
well,  said  how  often  he  had  been  sent  for  to  take  leave 
of  Miss  Martineau  when  she  had  been  supposed  to  be 
dying,  and  had  gone  at  great  personal  inconvenience ; 
but  she  had  lived  for  thirty  years  after  the  first  time. 
Her  fatal  illness  (dropsy)  had  set  in  before  she  went 
to  America.  Her  friends  tried  strongly  to  dissuade 
her  from  going,  suggesting  that  she  would  be  very 
ill  received  in  consequence  of  her  opinions.  '  Why, 
VOL.  IV.  2  H 


482 


THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


Harriet/  said  Sydney  Smith,  •  you  know,  if  you  go, 
they  will  tar  and  feather  you,  and  then  they  will  turn 
you  loose  in  the  woods,  and  the  wild  turkeys  will  come 
and  say,    Why,  what  strange  bird  are  you  ?  "  ' 

'^Of  course,  much  of  politics  was  talked,  especially 
about  the  Turkish  atrocities.  Sir  S.  Baker  said  that 
at  the  old  Duchess  of  Cleveland's  he  had  met  Lord 
Winchester,  now  quite  an  old  man.  He  said  that  he 
had  ridden  from  Constantinople  to  the  Danube  in  1832, 
and  had  passed  thirty  impaled  persons  on  the  way. 
He  himself  (Sir  Samuel)  had  seen  the  impaling  machine 
on  the  Nile — a  stake  tapered  like  a  pencil,  over  which 
a  wheel  was  let  down  to  a  certain  height,  and  when  the 
man  was  impaled,  he  was  let  down  on  the  wheel  and 
rested  there ;  he  often  lived  for  three  or  four  days ;  if 
the  machine  was  in  the  market-places  of  the  country 
towns,  the  relations  of  the  victims  gave  them  coffee.  ^  It 
is  not  worse,'  said  Lord  Houghton,  ^  than  the  stories 
we  are  told  every  Sunday :  he  destroyed  them  all,  he 
left  not  one  of  them  alive ; ''  especially  of  the  cruelties 
of  David,  who  made  his  enemies  pass  under  the  harrow, 
a  punishment  much  worse  than  impalement.  How 
grateful  David  would  have  been  for  a  steam-roller ! 
what  a  number  of  people  he  would  have  been  able  to 
despatch  at  once  ! ' 

At  Mrs.  Tennant's  I  saw  the  three  girls  who  have 
been  so  much  admired,  and  painted  by  Millais  and  so 
many  others;  their  chief  beauty  consisting  in  their 
picturesqueness  as  a  group." 

March  5. — To  Mr.  Brandram's  recitation  of  the 
'  Merchant  of  Venice  '  at  Lord  Overstone's.    He  said 


1877]  LONDON   WALKS   AND    SOCIETY  483 

the  whole  play  by  heart,  giving  different  character  and 
expression  to  each  person — an  astonishing  effort  of 
memory.  Hearing  a  play  in  this  way  certainly  fixes 
it  in  the  mind  much  more  than  reading  it,  though  not 
so  much  as  seeing  it." 

March  8. — Luncheon  at  charming  old  Mrs.  Thel- 
lusson's,  where  I  met  Madame  Taglioni,  the  famous 
danseiise.  She  is  now  an  old  lady,  with  pretty  re- 
fined features,  perfect  grace  of  movement,  and  a  most 
attractive  manner.  She  has  begun  in  her  old  age  to 
give  lessons  again  for  the  benefit  of  her  family,  though 
she  is,  at  the  same  time,  presenting  her  princess 
grand-daughter — the  Princess  Marguerite  Trubetskoi, 
a  simple  natural  girl.  Madame  Taglioni  spoke  of  her 
dancing  as  '  un  don  de  Dieu,^  just  as  she  would  of 
music  or  any  other  art.  We  asked  her  if  she  would 
like  to  be  young  again.  'Oh,  yes,  indeed,'  she  said; 
'  how  I  should  dance  ! '  She  said  her  father,  a  ballet- 
master,  made  her  practise  nine  hours  a  day ;  '  however 
great  a  talent  you  may  have,  you  never  can  bring  it 
to  perfection  without  that  amount  of  practice.' 

Lady  Charlemont  was  there,  and  after  luncheon 
we  asked  her  to  recite.  She  made  no  difficulties,  but 
said  nothing  ;  only,  while  we  had  almost  forgotten  her, 
she  had  glided  round  the  room  to  where  there  was 
a  red  curtain  for  a  background,  and  suddenly,  but 
slowly,  she  began.  It  was  only  a  simple  ballad  of 
Tennyson — '  Oh,  the  Earl  was  fair  to  see  ' — but  she 
threw  a  power  into  it  which  was  almost  agony,  and 
the  pauses  were  absolute  depths  of  pathos.  You  felt 
the  power  of  her  unfaltering  vengeance,  you  heard  the 


484  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE  [1877 

raging  of  the  storm  '  in  turret  and  tree ; '  and,  when 
the  moment  of  the  murder  came,  you  quivered  in  every 
nerve  as  she  stabbed  the  Earl  '  through  and  through.' 
It  was  absohitely  awful. 

Afterwards  Mrs.  Greville  recited  'Jeanne  d'Arc' 
It  is  her  best  part.  She  cannot  look  refined,  but  an 
inspired  French  paysanne  she  can  look  and  be 
thoroughly. 

Sir  Baldwin  Leighton  made  himself  so  pleasant, 
that  when  he  asked  me  to  go  to  their  box  at  the 
Lyceum  in  the  evening,  I  promised  to  go,  though  I 
never  like  seeing  any,  even  the  very  best  plays,  twice. 
However,  the  nearness  of  the  box  to  the  stage  enabled 
me  to  see  many  details  unobserved  before.  Richard 
III.  will  always,  I  should  think,  be  Irving's  best  part, 
for  he  looks  the  incarnation  of  the  person.  In  Shak- 
speare,  Richard  III.  is  most  anxious  to  become  king, 
and  perfectly  determined  to  remain  king  when  he  has 
become  so  ;  but  Irving  carries  out  far  more  than  this. 
Irving's  Richard  is  perfectly  determined  that  vice  shall 
triumph  over  virtue,  and  utterly  enraptured  when  it 
does  triumph,  in  a  w^ay  which  is  quite  diabolical. 
The  night  before  Bosworth  Field  is  most  striking  and 
beautiful.  You  are  with  the  king  in  his  tent.  He 
draws  the  curtain  and  looks  out.  On  the  distant 
wind-stricken  heath  the  camp-fires  are  alight,  and  the 
hghts  in  the  tents  blaze  out  one  b}^  one,  eclipsing  the 
stars  overhead.  Richard  says  little  for  a  time ;  your 
whole  mind  is  allowed  the  repose  of  the  beauty. 
The  king,  who  has  been  through  the  last  acts  trying 
(you  feel  him  striving  against  his  personal  disadvan- 
tages) to  be  kingly,  is  all-kingly  on  that  night,  in  the 


LONDON    WALKS   AND  SOCIETY 


485 


immediate  face  of  the  great  future  on  which  everything 
hangs.  He  gives  his  orders — simply,  briefly,  royally. 
He  lies  down  on  the  couch,  folding  himself  in  the 
royal  velvet  robe,  which,  like  Creusa's  cloak,  is  asso- 
ciated with  all  his  crimes.    He  falls  asleep.  Then, 


I 


LONDON  BRIDGE  FROM  BILLINGSGATE. 1 

out  of  the  almost  darkness,  just  visible  as  outlines  but 
no  more,  rise  the  phantoms ;  and,  like  a  whiffling  wind, 
the  voice  of  Clarence  floats  across  the  stage.  As  each 
spirit  delivers  its  message  in  the  same  faint  spiritual 
harmonious  monotone,  the  sleeping  figure  shudders 
and  groans,  moans  more  sadly. 

Then  there  is  a  powerfully  human  touch  in  the 
way  in  which  he,  so  coldly  royal  as  he  lay  down. 


From    Walks  in  London," 


486 


THE    STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


turns  human-like  for  sympathy  in  his  great  horror  and 
anguish  to  the  first  person  he  sees,  the  soldier  who 
wakens  him." 

March  lo. — Went  with  Victor  Parnell  down  the 
river  in  search  of  the  old  houses  at  Limehouse  and 
Stepney.  We  found  them,  but  the  accounts  in  the 
Daily  Nezvsj  which  had  led  us  to  the  excursion,  were 
so  exaggerated  that  the  houses  were  scarcely  to  be 
recognised.  We  came  back  by  Ratclifife  Highway. 
It  all  looked  very  clean,  and  thriving,  and  decent, 
very  different  indeed  from  the  descriptions  in  religious 
magazines." 

March  ii. — Luncheon  with  Sir  Robert  and  Lady 
Cunliffe,  who  showed  me  a  volume  of  portrait  sketches 
by  Downman,  a  little-known  master  of  George  IIL's 
time,  but  a  wonderfully  charming  artist." 


END  OF  VOL.  IV. 


Frmted  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  &  Co. 
Edifibnrgh  and  London 


ERRATA 

Page  60,  for  "  Marocetti "  read  "  Marochetti." 

136,   ,,      Curramore "  r^<^<'/ Curraghmore." 
„  232,   „    "  Keats r^rt^ Keate." 

J)  435>   ?5    "  vieillir  etre  heureuse"  read  "vieillir  pour  etre 
heureuse." 

„  478,    „    "Bedel  and  Bijou"  read  "  Babil  and  Bijou." 


'  Story  of  my  Life."— End  of  Vol.  IV. 


V 


1 


